


May I Have This Dance?

by fallofthereichenbach



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: (kind of), M/M, Pretend Relationship, Yule Ball AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-10-23 05:00:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallofthereichenbach/pseuds/fallofthereichenbach
Summary: Finding a date to the Yule Ball shouldn't be this difficult for Harry - really, it shouldn't.But then a few words from the ridiculously clever Parvati Patil flip his entire understanding on it's head, and he's left considering if his only option was in front of him the entire time.Or; in which Harry Potter turns up to the Yule Ball with Draco Malfoy on his arm.





	1. Parvati Patil Makes An Interesting Suggestion

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written anything on here in a while, so I'm a bit rusty. Also I probably won't really be writing anything else after this.
> 
> It just so happened that this idea sprung upon me as I was about to go to sleep, and I didn't want to forget it so I had to write it somewhere...
> 
> Enjoy!!

Why were girls so intimidating? With their glossy hair and sharp smiles and delicate everything? Even when they weren't looking terrifyingly perfect (like now, at the end of a very stressful Potions lesson), Harry couldn't help but shrink a few inches any time he happened to see one. And, not being particularly blessed when it came to stature, he really needed all the inches he could get.

It was the damned Yule Ball that had mucked things up, really. Everyone expected him, Harry Potter, one of the Hogwarts Champions, to ask someone to accompany him immediately. And maybe that was why he hadn't gotten round to it yet - everyone was busy expecting things of him, and he'd hoped that if he let time pass by a little they'd lose interest. No such luck, of course.

He'd watched and he'd waited as his peers started to pair off. Hermione was taken by some un-named bloke, Ginny was going with Neville; in fact, one of the only people he could think of who was as equally unprepared as him was Ron. They tended to catch one another's eye now whenever anyone brought up the Ball in conversation, had mastered their own special Look to precisely convey a feeling of oh-Merlin-that-really-is-coming-round-soon-isn't-it?

They weren't grossly unattractive, nor hugely horrible, Harry reasoned and often shared with his friend. Surely there could be no reason that any girl would be offended if they were to ask her? Ron had some mixed feelings on the subject.

"Listen, mate, you're the one who has to open the thing, and luckily you're the most likely here to actually get a date. No, it's true. Don't worry about me, I'll third-wheel it up with Hermione and Mystery Man."

Seemingly deaf to Harry's protests, Ron would usually wander off when their conversations reached this peak. It was a delicate subject, after all.

Potions class was drawing to a close, and Harry was attempted to scrape purple goo off of the bottom of his cauldron. He'd become so distracted with thoughts of social pressures and dancing that he'd forgotten to add the crushed beetle legs halfway through. At this point though, he was seriously considering asking Professor Snape to the Ball if it would get him enough detentions to miss the damned thing.

Ron and Hermione had gone ahead without him, but he wasn't the only person who'd lingered after class had finished. Snape had swooped out like the over-sized bat he was, but Parvati Patil was still slowly packing away her things after Neville had spilt at least 5 of the ingredients in her bag.

Parvati Patil was very pretty.

Parvati Patil was also a very nice person, very clever, and seemed to be genuinely good fun.

Harry also hadn't yet heard that she had a date to the Ball.

It was worth a shot, right?

"Hey Parvati, how's it going?" Harry asked her out of the blue, cursing himself a second later as she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Harry! Sorry, I didn't know you were here! ... Um, yeah I'm good, how are you?"

"Oh I'm great," Harry gritted his teeth.

"Good?" Parvati said, perhaps sensing the awkwardness that was polluting the air like a Dungbomb. She made to turn back to sweeping the Potions debris off of her desk when Harry finally decided to take the plunge.

"Um, I was wondering, Parvati... The Yule Ball's coming up quite quickly, isn't it?"

She stilled a little in her movements, not quite facing him. Harry saw a slight flush creep into her face, and quite frankly he wanted to run out of the room and never look back. Parvati sighed.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm already going with someone.

Harry wasn't sure if he felt relieved, hurt, surprised, or just uncomfortable.

"That obvious, am I?" He tried a joke to lighten the mood. 

"Well, the Ball's a week away and everyone's talking about how you haven't asked anyone. You haven't had a full conversation with me basically since we met each other, and now you're making small talk in a Potions classroom? Sorry, Potter, but you aren't very subtle," Parvati's voice held no sense of malice at all; Harry was grateful for her mocking, it did help to diffuse the tension a little.

"What do you mean, my subtlety isn't good? You know me, I love to blend in!" Harry felt a bit calmer now, and so he continued, "Seriously though, is everyone talking about me and my lack of a date? That really helps my confidence, that does."

"Hogwarts is a hotbed for gossip," Parvati shrugged, "And you're right at the centre if it."

"Great. Fantastic," Harry shook his head as if to clear it, and figured he didn't exactly have too much pride left to look after, "Would you happen to know of any girls who A) don't have a date yet, and B) would be willing to go with me after a week's notice?"

"I'm not too sure, I know that Padma doesn't have a date yet but I don't know what her plans are..."

"Okay, well thanks anyway... Who are you going with, if you don't mind me asking?"

Parvati's complexion darkened suddenly, and a smile tugged at her lips.

"Lavander" she said simply.

"Really?" Harry couldn't quite keep the tactless shock out of his voice; he'd had no idea... He sensed Parvati tense at his surprise, and worried that she might think he had a problem with it.

"I mean - I don't - I won't - Are you guys...?" He stammered for a little bit, and lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

"Yeah, we are," Parvati said softly, "Most people know now, but I guess us going together will make things official."

"Uh, I don't want to pry too much, but you don't seem too happy about that?"

Parvati let out a laugh that was half sigh.

"Most people know, but a lot of them don't understand. You've seen how people get about 'blood purity', and not just Slytherins. Anything like this... People don't agree with it. They're so ridiculous that they think it's something that they have to agree with! Muggles are the same but you'd think, wouldn't you, that wizards might be a bit better? Frankly, Harry, I'm terrified."

"If anyone says or does anything, I-I'll stop them, I won't let anything happen."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Potter," her tone was only a little lighter now, "But you've got your own issues."

"Is there anything I can do, to help?"

Parvati considered him for a second, and cracked a smile.

"It's easy for you, you know. Take some pretty girl, make awkward small talk with her rather than dancing if you want to. But, hey, if you want to push the boat out and take a guy instead, Lav and I would be more than happy to double-date."

Harry flapped his mouth open and shut for a little bit, quite unsure of what to say.

"Hey, don't go all goldfish now! I'm half-joking Potter, don't worry. Though I bet if the Hogwarts Champion Chosen One showed up to open the Ball with a man on his arm, it would take a lot of the heat away from two harmless lesbians trying to have a good time."

Chuckling at his face, she pulled her bag onto her back and wandered out of the dungeon, leaving Harry wondering if the world had turned upside down.


	2. How To Ask Out Draco Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is apparently looking like it's going to have more than two chapters?? Aaah idk
> 
> Anyway thank you for reading it? So much love for anyone who's reading this, anyone who's ever left kudos or comments, and basically everyone else.
> 
> Not too sure when I'll update; I have school stuff going on (like exams, yay) and even though I'm loving writing this it probably won't help me pass.
> 
> But anyway, feel free to drift off into the world of Hogwarts, where two boys are about to collide quite fantastically.
> 
> Enjoy!!

Harry walked out of the Potions room numbly a few minutes later, his brain swirling with all kinds of thoughts. He wasn't entirely sure, really, what it was that was making his skin itch and his chest feel swollen, but he was idly wondering if it was worth a trip to Madame Pomfrey.

He obviously, definitely, completely did not have a problem with anything like... well, that. He was happy for Parvati and Lavender (though he clearly didn't know them as well as he thought), and was quite willing to laugh about the shocked faces of Hogwarts students if he started asking some bloke to the dance. But, at the same time, a tiny burrowing thought was making it's way through his consciousness. He wasn't sure if it was a doubt, a question, or something utterly different, but it unnerved him.

He forced his feet onwards and upwards to the Gryffindor Common Room; at least he could tell Ron that he might have a shot with Padma Patil.

It was Monday, he reasoned with himself, and the Ball was on Sunday. He just needed to get a good night's sleep to dispel his lingering discomfort from his conversation with Parvati, and then he could jump straight back into trying to make his own arrangements.

Harry let his brain calm itself, and was feeling almost at ease with the whole idea - until, suddenly, he wasn't.

The Transfiguration corridor was still the longest corridor that Harry had ever seen in a building before, and he always approached it with some sense of trepidation, and today was no different. He turned the corner, and walked a few steps before realising that - even though most people were either in lessons or enjoying their free period in the fresh snow outside - he was not alone.

At the other end of the corridor, there was a figure walking in his direction. 

And, of course, his brain immediately spotted the silky blonde hair, the tight-fitting robes, and the slight limp from a recent Quidditch injury and came to the definite conclusion that the figure was Draco Malfoy.

Who else would it be, Harry thought bitterly, when he really wasn't in the mood to come up with witty things to say? 

Harry wracked his brains, as he always did when Malfoy was approaching, to try and prepare himself for whatever insult might come his way and to try, in turn, to think of a possible retort. But his mind was so preoccupied with thinking about the stupid Ball...

Idly, as if he were drifting into some absurd dream that didn't feel so strange when you were asleep, Harry wondered what kind of dress robes Malfoy was planning to wear on Sunday night. As much as he hated him, Malfoy was rich and seemed to know a lot about the latest wizarding fashion; there was no way he'd settle for anything but the best. 

Why did Malfoy care so much about fashion? It was a valid question that he'd heard a few people gossip about over the years. It was stupid, really - spending too much time on your hair didn't make you gay - but Harry couldn't deny that he was sometimes curious as to Malfoy's day-to-day motives. 

It really was a long corridor.

With a lurch of the stomach, Harry's brain slipped further into the dark hole of things he shouldn't be thinking about too closely. Was Draco going with anyone to the Ball? He hadn't really heard anything about that in particular, and Draco seemed too haughty to actually have enough feelings for someone to ask them. He was, however, not unattractive (as Harry had noticed perhaps one too many times), and surely someone would have at least tried to ask him? That didn't mean he'd definitely say yes, of course, but still...

Harry felt one part of his brain prod the other and ask it why it seemed to care so much; in response, the other part just kind of screamed unintelligibly until they were both quiet, but neither part stayed silent for long.

Malfoy wasn't unattractive, there was no rationality in denying it. He had the neat blonde hair that looked soft and framed his face nicely when he didn't slick it back. His eyes were a steely grey and somehow seemed to fit perfectly in his head, not too wide nor too narrow. His nose was haughty and defined, but he was now starting to grow into it (though Harry always made a mental note to call him Pinnochio just to see if he'd understand what he meant) and it made him look more like an adult. It didn't help, either, that over the summer he'd had a growth spurt and was now quite a bit taller than Harry.

So what did all this mean? He was hot, maybe, in a way that Harry (who was perfectly disinterested) could somehow appreciate. It made taunting him simultaneously more difficult and more interesting.

Harry felt like he was no longer in control of his own limbs, like he was hurtling uncontrollably towards either an epiphany or a collision. The Transfiguration corridor couldn't last forever, and Malfoy was getting closer with every step.

Malfoy, it seemed, was making a big show of ignoring him. He'd slipped a 'Potter Stinks' badge onto the front of his robes but it seemed a lazy afterthought, as though he didn't really know or care what the badge was all about. He shuffled the parchment he was carrying, he moved his hair out of his grey eyes, and he pointedly looked out of the window with a smirk.

Harry was furious.

They passed each other right outside McGonagall's classroom, and to an outside it would have looked like crisis had been narrowly avoided. But then Harry spun on his heel and looked back at Malfoy, who was strutting away down the corridor. He wasn't entirely sure what the plan of action was, only that he was angry and partly knew why. The words that came out his mouth were a shock to both boys.

"Draco!" 

Harry was completely unaware of what made him call Malfoy that; the word sounded wrong when he said it, too many years spent spitting his last name out like a poison. Draco was a softer word that felt entirely alien on his lips, and Harry was rather ashamed of the way his voice squeaked a little in the middle of it.

Malfoy, however, he turned around perfectly slowly as though he had correctly anticipated everything.

"What do you want?" He said, and he sounded bored. Of course he did.

"Why aren't you outside? I saw the rest of your house making snowballs throw themselves at anyone who walks past."

"And did it occur to you that's where I'm heading, Potter?" Malfoy examined the nails on one of his pale, slim hands.

"With all of your precious books and parchment, and without so much as a cloak? I think not."

"Fine. Play detective then. Where am I going?" Malfoy cocked his head to the side and made eye contact with Harry for the first time. It sent a jolt of something down Harry's spine, probably anger at the mocking tone of his voice.

Harry made a big show of looking him up and down with narrowed eyes.

"Library," he concluded.

"Well done," Malfoy sneered, "Can you leave me in peace now, Potter?"

"Nope," Harry said, desperately hoping that inspiration would strike him.

"Well, I'm leaving now and if you follow me I'll hex you."

"Right outside McGonagall's office? You wouldn't have the balls."

"Whatever, Potter, go be an obnoxious Gryffindor somewhere else please."

"Wow, did Draco just say please?" Harry looked around at some imaginary audience, "I can't believe it! It's a Christmas miracle!"

Malfoy gave a long sigh, and turned on his heel to continue walking. Harry felt something pull at his stomach.

"Aw, c'mon Draco, don't give up so easily!"

Harry heard the other boy tap twice with his finger on one of his books, as though trying to convince himself of something.

"Why are you calling me that?" He seemed to blurt out at random, "Only a few select people call me that now. I'd rather you stopped."

"What, Draco?" Harry asked, confused. He saw Malfoy's head incline slightly, though he made no movement to turn around, "It's a nice-ish name, maybe I just want to call you Draco."

"Well, don't."

The harshness was so unexpected compared to the relative softness of Malfoy's previous words that Harry found himself to be quite surprised. Then something clicked a little bit in his mind. Unexpected.

"Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?" Harry asked, pleasantly shocked at the calm in his voice. 

What was even sweeter was the fact that he had appeared to render Draco Malfoy momentarily speechless. The other boy couldn't seem to stop himself from spinning round to face Harry again, and the look on his face was one of horror and surprise and at least a dozen other expressions. It was all Harry could do to keep a straight face. This, he decided, was his crowning achievement in life: for once, Malfoy seemed to have nothing to say for himself.

"What?" Was all Malfoy could manage after a few seconds of processing.

"You, the Yule Ball, and me," Harry gave him as peaceful and innocent a look as he could muster - one of them had to at least appear calm - before continuing "It's on Sunday, and I don't have a date yet, but I have to open the dance or whatever so I really kind of need one. I figured you might not have one either?"

He half expected Malfoy to throw a curse at him and run away.

"I, uhm... no?" He said instead. His expression of disbelief was starting to melt away into a sheer lack of trust.

"Really? A couple of people said you might be going with Pansy Parkinson," Harry couldn't really remember of he'd heard anything of the sort, but figured it was too late to back out now.

"You just contradicted yourself," Malfoy narrowed his eyes, starting to look more like himself now.

"Come on, Draco, maybe I was just hoping that you wouldn't have a date. Wishful thinking, you know?" Harry rolled his eyes as though it was obvious. He didn't really know what he meant and what he didn't any more.

"Right."

"Listen, I'm not going to force you into anything because I respect you too much as a person," Harry couldn't keep the smile out of his eyes, "But my offer's here if you want it."

"Why? Why do you suddenly want to go with me?" Malfoy asked in clipped tones.

Harry, in all honesty, had no idea what to say. Did he want to go to the Yule Ball with Draco? No, of course not - it had just slipped out. He didn't really know why he was running with the idea like this, but he was. So he shrugged and tried to tell as much of the truth as he could work out into a reasonable explanation.

"Haven't you ever wanted to shock people, Draco? Your mum and dad, I bet they're really tough to truly surprise. I imagine - and correct me if I'm wrong - that it's all tradition and boring and blah blah blah with the Malfoy's."

Malfoy's face tightened slightly, and Harry realised that it might not be the best way to win him over.

"Anyway, wouldn't you just really like to do something unexpected? Something that will make people look at you - really look, not just at what your name is or what people point out."

"So basically you're bored and going through your rebellious phase?" Malfoy raised one perfect eyebrow.

"Draco, my entire life is a rebellious phase. But you're all about the uptight tradition - so really I'm doing this as a favour to you. Feel free to pay me back whenever, but come on Slytherin, live a little first!"

"And if I say no?"

"Then I'll wallow in my overwhelming sadness and grief for the rest of time. A poor fate for someone who was just trying to be nice to a Malfoy!"

"Potter, if we went to the Yule Ball together I think Hogwarts in it's entirety would implode," Malfoy rolled his eyes and huffed, and Harry thought it was the closest to genuine laughter that he'd ever seen come from him. This was a good sign - he was starting to think things through.

"Excellent, then I won't have to do this bloody TriWizard Tournament."

"You've got this all figured out, then?"

"Absolutely."

"Fine."

Harry's right eye twitched.

"Fine?"

"Fine."

Harry's mouth wobbled a little.

"No, but... Fine?"

"Yes, Potter, I'll go to the stupid Ball with you."

Harry's heart was pounding.

"Really?"

"If you make me say it again I can't be held accountable for my actions."

"Alright, alright," Harry waved a slightly shaky hand. What had he just gotten himself into? He thought fast, "Ground rules - we need to keep this under wraps until the big night, so no blabbing to your snakes about this, okay?"

"Same with you and Weasley and Granger."

"Okay. We can meet in the library at lunchtime tomorrow if you want, to make sure that this is actually still happening?"

So I can see if I've come to my senses by then, Harry thought to himself.

"Potter, if you're going to have second thoughts can you not just have them now and get them out of the way?"

"And you're not going to have second thoughts?"

"No, once Malfoys commit to something we stick to our word."

Harry wanted to throw up. He was locking himself in a small room with a dragon and throwing away the key.

"Right, well, Potters are similar in that way I think. So no second thoughts then. But I think we should still meet tomorrow to talk about some of the finer details."

"Okay," Malfoy actually seemed to be agreeing with him, which made everything all the more surreal.

"Okay," Harry said, feeling desperately like he needed to get the last word in.

"On the subject of ground rules, though..." Malfoy mused slightly, "1- We're going to have to think long and hard about what you're going to wear. Your usual robes barely fit you, and you can't wear scruffy dress robes and stand next to me, I won't have it. And 2- Really do stop calling me Draco. It sounds weird coming from you. So, even if this is just some elaborate Gryffindor prank (which would be very unoriginal, by the way) at least do it properly. Don't waste my time, Potter."

Malfoy reached out a hand a flicked Harry's tie before turning and making a successful escape this time. Harry was left wondering how many times people were going to say something that completely disarmed him and then just walk away.

He hoped Parvati would be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO you know how in Drarry fics there's always like a big transition between them calling each other 'Potter' and 'Malfoy' and then 'Harry' and 'Draco'? (Because it's really cool to write about how the names change and what that means)
> 
> Well, bear in mind that for this entire chapter I kept accidentally calling Draco 'Draco' every. Single. Time. I referred to him in Harry's internal monologue and meant to call him 'Malfoy' instead. Aaaaaah I annoy myself so much when writing!
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, lots of love.


	3. Who Doesn't Want To Fake-Date Their Arch-Nemesis?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and being lovely, it makes me fall in love with writing on here all over again...
> 
> Enjoy!!

"Where have you been?"

Harry was greeted by Hermione's low, questioning tone as he stepped awkwardly through the portrait hole. Her and Ron were sat on two of the armchairs by the fire hunched over a few rolls of parchment, and thankfully the common room was empty other than a few first years.

"I... Uh..." Harry hesitated, unsure of how to explain what had happened since Ron and Hermione left the dungeons, "It's kind of a long story."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but Ron took the opportunity to yawn and stretch before pointing an accusatory finger in Harry's direction.

"Come on, 'Mione, if I have to do this Potions essay right now then surely so does he!"

"We just left Potions and you're already doing more Potions work?" Harry asked, not at all surprised.

"We didn't just leave potions, Harry, we've been here for ages while you were off doing whatever it was that you were doing," Hermione couldn't keep the pointed edge out of her voice, and Harry tried unsuccessfully to hold back a smile. What would she say if she knew everything he'd done in the last half an hour? Part of him wanted to drop his new arrangements with Draco casually into conversation just for the pure shock factor, but a promise was a promise.

"Let's just say I was doing some important work of my own. Speaking of, Ron - I may or may not have some useful information about the upcoming Yule Ball."

Ron, who had been slumped in his chair, immediately perked up.

"What?"

"Well," Harry gave the common room another quick sweep with his eyes, making sure that Parvati wasn't lurking somewhere with Lavender, "Parvati told me that her sister Padma (she's in Ravenclaw) might not have a date yet. I don't know for definite if she has any plans, but you might as well go ask her."

"If that was all you needed to know, I could have told you that," Hermione said mildly as she put down what had been looking like a promising Potions essay before Harry came in, "Padma was going to go with some Ravenclaw boy in the year above but I think he's taking someone else now. I say go for it Ron, you might as well swoop in now before someone else does. She's really pretty - and really nice, mind, so you have to treat her well or you'll have the entire student body ready to fight you."

"I didn't know you were best friends with Padma Patil - but if your connections can help me out here then I'm more than happy!" Ron started to stand up, before his gaze fell once again on Harry, "Hang on a second, mate, why aren't you jumping over yourself to ask Padma out?"

Harry hadn't quite thought of that. He cleared his throat clumsily and wracked his brains.

"You've already asked someone, haven't you? That's why you took so long getting here?" Hermione's eyes seemed to burn into him with excitement, "Who was it?"

Harry felt his face flush, and knew that was as good as confirmation for his friends.

"Why, Harry, you sly fox!" Ron seemed momentarily distracted from his mission, cloak half in his hand but trailing on the floor, "Who's the lucky lady?"

He considered, briefly, how Draco Malfoy would take being called 'the lucky lady', and tried his hardest not to laugh. 

"Um... It's a surprise."

He felt something collide heavily with his arm and it took a moment to realise that it was Ron's fist. His friend seemed torn between laughter and horror.

"Not you too! We already have Hermione and her secret date, you have to tell me at least!"

"Hey, I deserve to know too!"

"No, you've made your bed with whoever-it-is, and now you have to lie in it."

Hermione had turned red and looked like she was about to dive into a full-on explanation of why her decision to keep it a secret was completely justified, and Harry felt a headache coming on.

"Who wants to go watch the Slytherins getting pummelled by the Hufflepuffs in a snowball fight? I was watching them out of the window when I was walking up," Harry suggested innocently, and Ron seemed sorely tempted before he suddenly seemed to remember why he had stood up.

"Don't try and distract me, Harry, I have to go and locate Padma!"

"She's usually in the library on her free periods," Hermione called after him as he dashed away, and Harry shook his head tiredly.

"Hermione? Fancy a walk in the snow?"

She stretched her feet out like a cat, and then shuffled slightly to be closer to the fire.

"No, I think I'm comfy here thanks... Harry, you know you can tell me anything, though, right?"

Harry stopped in his tracks, having been quite ready to go and grab some parchment to start his own essay. This conversation looked like it might take a dark turn.

"No, I know, Hermione, and I would usually. It's just a bit... different right now, you know? You get it though, yeah?"

Hermione sighed and mumbled "Yeah" with a small smile. 

Harry wasn't quite sure how long he could keep this up.

 

*

 

The next day, Harry made it as far as the Entrance Hall before he remembered that he was supposed to be meeting Malfoy in the library.

"Harry?" Hermione had appeared at his side, concerned, as he stopped in his tracks and ran a hand through his hair, "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing, I just remembered that I have to go to the library right now," Harry said lamely, desperately trying to think of an excuse.

"The library? Did you accidentally Polyjuice yourself into Hermione?" Ron's half-hearted attempt at teasing was probably due to the fact that the smells of food wafting out of the Great Hall were testing his restraint quite heavily. As Harry watched he leaned forward and inhaled deeply.

"No, I just... Wanted to finish off that Potions essay from yesterday while I have the chance."

"Ooh, that might be a good idea actually! How about we all go and work on it together?"

"No!" Cried Harry and Ron in unison. Harry then looked at Ron, who shrugged.

"What? I'm really bloody hungry!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, looking at Harry in triumph.

"I knew you were lying! Where are you really going?"

"I... Look, it sounds stupid but... I just want to have another look at the next clue for the TriWizard Tournament, okay?"

"And you thought it'd be a good idea to open that thing in the middle of the library?" Even Ron seemed to have calmed down slightly.

"Well, I didn't really care where I opened it. But it's always best if people are at lunch or whatever; I hate it when people are watching me trying to work it out. Not you guys of course! But it is sometimes a bit easier if I'm alone, no distractions."

Harry managed to be simultaneously proud of the lie and ashamed of it. But he could explain it all later and it would be fine, he just needed some time.

"That's good enough for me," Ron shrugged, clearly not having the energy to question him further when food was on the other side of the doors, "We'll catch up with you later, mate."

He then proceeded to essentially pull Hermione away, though she insisted on giving Harry skeptical looks over her shoulder until they were actually inside the Hall.

Harry spun away then, and began to take the stairs two at a time. According to his watch, he was ten minutes late for meeting Malfoy, and he'd have to run if he didn't want to be much later. He passed less and less students the higher up he went, as the vast majority were busy eating. He hoped that meant that the library would be fairly empty.

He skidded to a halt outside the grand doors to the library, and pushed them open before he could think too much. Madam Pince looked at him menacingly from the moment he walked in, and he smiled nervously in response.

Where was Malfoy going to be? Harry only ever seemed to noticed how huge the library was when he was trying to look for something or someone in it's papery depths. He tried to think of where he'd be sitting if he was a bit earlier, and reasoned that Malfoy was probably sat at the very last table in the room just to make him walk further (also probably to decrease the chance of them being overheard, but it was significantly easier to think of Malfoy in the context of him making Harry's life difficult).

And so Harry began his trek to the end of the library, checking every section and table as he went. The long walk made him start to think a little more, and then to overthink, and suddenly the terrible possibility occurred to him that Malfoy might have given up and left. Harry forced himself to hurry up, though the stitch in his side was screaming at him and his lungs felt like swollen balloons. Malfoy was a Malfoy. He'd be there.

Sure enough, in the last possible section, Malfoy was sat at a small and rather dusty table with a stack of several books in front of him and two shelves towering up on either side of him.

As a spot for a secret meeting like this, it seemed effective. The entrance to the library was miles away, and Harry hadn't passed anyone else on his journey out here. The shelves formed protective walls around them at odd angles, and the sheer level of dust showed that no one had set foot in here in a while. The sign tacked to the side of the closest shelf to Harry read 'Muggle Literature: Romance", and Harry wondered if Malfoy had chosen this spot specifically with a sense of humour.

Malfoy seemed almost content to be leaning over his books, oblivious to the world. His hair fell randomly all over his forehead and he didn't seem too bothered by it. His cloak was slung carelessly over one of the chairs next to him, and the stack of books next to him was messy but he didn't seem to care. Harry started, realising that he couldn't just stand here and stare at Malfoy. They had work to do, and if they weren't careful then lunch would be over soon.

"I didn't think you'd still be here."

Malfoy actually jumped when Harry spoke up. Only a little twitch, but Harry still counted it as a victory. Anything that could catch Malfoy off guard or shock him in any way was frankly delightful. That look in his eyes that wasn't quite fear was somewhat addictive.

"I started to think you weren't coming," Malfoy replied, his voice cool enough. He turned the page of his book.

"I got held up," Harry went and sat down on the chair across from Malfoy.

"Mm."

"Hey, you try explaining to Ron Weasley why you aren't going to be eating lunch!"

Malfoy didn't even dignify that with a sound, so Harry was forced to try another tactic.

"What're you reading? I didn't have you penned as a Muggle romance kinda guy?"

"I'm not really, this is just the most perfect place in the library for if you don't want to be seen."

"I'll bear that in mind."

"No, most of these are Muggle fantasy novels. Those people have some weird about magic," Malfoy spoke calmly of Muggles, as though he didn't spend his time insulting them and talking of blood purity like it was the most important thing in all the world.

"Most of them?" Harry chose to focus on that, instead. He didn't want to have to get into an argument now.

"A couple of them are the so-called romance novels. I figure someone might as well put them to good use."

"Sure, you're only doing it because you feel a sense of duty, not because you want to," Harry said sarcastically, and threw a heavy wink at Malfoy (who missed it because he was so busy turning another page).

When Malfoy continued to not respond, Harry found it more and more difficult to stop himself asking the questions that he hadn't really wanted to.

"Aren't you worried that reading Muggle books will contrast too much with your big, bad (racist) Slytherin aesthetic?"

"Potter, if you've come here simply to mock me then I would strongly recommend that you leave," Malfoy's voice wasn't particularly angry, but it also wasn't that dangerous degree of coldness that meant he was about to snap. Harry saw that as basically an invitation to continue.

"I mean, no offence, but why are you letting me have an insight into your Muggle reading preferences? Aren't you worried I might spill your secrets to the world? People might stop believing that you really mean it when you call them a Mudblood - the horror!"

"Think it through, Potter," Malfoy drawled, letting himself get drawn into the logic of Harry's taunts, "If you told anyone, you'd have to explain why you were sitting across a table watching me read."

"Ooh, how clever of you. The ultimate disguise; hiding behind blackmail."

"Anyway, I don't want to be forced to give up my entire lunch break," Malfoy shut his book abruptly and placed it atop the pile. When he saw Harry's confusion (how did that link to blackmail?), he sighed. "So get to the point, Potter."

"Right. I think we have some things that we need to discuss."

"Such as?"

"Okay, well... What are we going to tell people at the Ball? I mean, everyone knows us as being at each other's throats. Are you going to suddenly pretend to be best friends?"

"The alternative being what?"

Harry's heart felt like it faltered for a second; were they thinking this through too much? Was he heading into dangerous territory? Maybe, maybe.

"I don't know. Well, the alternative I guess is pretending to, you know, be officially dating. I think that would yield the best results in terms of shocking people, but... um..." Harry felt heat rise in him, and felt like some stupid fool. Malfoy leaned back in his chair and considered him.

"That's why we're doing this, isn't it? To shock people and have some fun?"

Harry nodded and shrugged; summarised into one sentence like that and suddenly it seemed like a really flimsy excuse.

"Then why shouldn't we do whatever it takes to shock people?"

Harry didn't know how Malfoy could just say that so casually and not fall off his chair or start choking on thin air like he would probably do if the roles were reversed.

"Um..."

"Come on, Potter. I don't know how many Balls you've been to, but no one really goes 'just as friends'. It's a bit of a cop-out, isn't it? If we turned up together but were just pretending to be friends then we'd only have that initial reaction that would eventually fade away. Besides, I was already somewhat under the impression that was what we were going to be doing anyway."

"Really?"

"If you ask someone to a dance, Potter, it's usually not assumed that you're just asking to be platonic."

Harry wasn't sure if his face could go any more red, and in that moment he felt as though he hated Malfoy more than he ever had before - simply for the other boy's strange ability to never change a shade.

"Alright, fine," Harry said, trying to dispel his discomfort the only way he knew how; boldly and brashly, charging straight on into the fire. The Gryffindor way.

"Fine?"

"Fine, Malfoy. Let's date."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I updating daily? Maybe. Will that continue? Maybe. Do I have a vague idea of where this is going and nothing else? Maybe.


	4. Dress Robes Are Far Too Complicated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: wow I've written one chapter a day for three days!! I'll have finished this by the end of the week, I'm on a roll! This is the sign of a new me-
> 
> Me: *gives up*
> 
> Nah in all seriousness my upcoming exams should quite possibly take priority, so I might be limited to updating only on weekends.
> 
> Anyway, it's not all about me so hope you have fun reading this and that you have a nice day filled with doodles and books and laughter!
> 
> Enjoy!!

Professor Moody really needed to relax. He seemed constantly on edge, always twitching his false leg and shuffling his cloak around. It didn't seem to be nerves, nor fear; more like he was... Waiting for something. Anything. Harry supposed that maybe that was the way of any hardened Auror; they'd seen so many things spring upon them without warning that they'd learnt to expect the arrival of the unexpected. Maybe Harry himself would end up like that one day after years spent looking over his shoulder for Voldemort.

Moody didn't make it look particularly fun. He would act perfectly fine one lesson, and then would be back to tapping his foot constantly and snapping at anyone who was even thinking about making a sound that he hadn't asked for. It made being a student almost as stressful as he made being a teacher look.

Today was a strange mixture of his two moods. He wasn't quite as antsy as normal and he had managed to explain the effects and symptoms of several common poisons without exploding into a tangent about the foolishness of murderers. But the look he was giving to anyone who broke even a minor, unspoken rule in his class was nothing short of vaguely unhinged.

Harry had long since decided to keep his head down like most of the other students in the class. Ron to his left was sitting with his quill resting lightly but unmoving on his parchment, whereas Hermione on his left was scribbling notes furiously. 

Malfoy was also in this class, though Harry was decidedly not looking at him. Things between them publicly had remained quite the same since their meeting in the library yesterday, though maybe Malfoy had backed off slightly in his taunts, instead preferring to adopt a silent air of disgust whenever his gaze happened to land on Harry. Harry himself was just pretty happy that at least no one was expecting anything; at least then he could stick to the weak but still slightly logical idea that they were only doing this to shock people into not giving Parvati and Lavender a hard time. He didn't want to get sucked into the rabbit hole of his deeper reasoning.

Harry was in the process of writing down a far-too-graphic description of the colour of a poison victim's vomit when something fluttered down onto his desk. He dropped his quill on the floor in surprise, and Ron gave him a look of glazed-eyed confusion.

Checking that Moody was fully occupied writing on the board, Harry slowly unfolded the paper bird that had taken up residence on his parchment. The second his hands touched it, it's wings stopped fluttering and whatever light enchantment had been placed upon it soon died away. 

Scrawled on the paper was a messy drawing of Harry on his broom getting blasted by dragon fire. It didn't take three guesses to work out who had done it, and the muffled laughter he could hear coming from the back of the room where Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy were sitting was the only other clue he needed. Ron peered over his should and shrugged.

"Ignore 'em," he mouthed, and turned back to face the front again.

Harry looked back at the drawing, and noticed a few tiny lines underneath the dragon's wing. He squinted at it, and was barely able to make out what it said: "library again today at lunch?". His heart jumped in surprise - what did Malfoy want? Did his cronies know about it, was that why they were laughing? Was it all one big practical joke?

No, that was surely irrational. If Malfoy had been happy with them knowing, he wouldn't have had to hide the writing in a rushed drawing. Besides, he had said he wouldn't tell.

Harry abandoned his note taking and set about writing a response, when suddenly-

"POTTER! I desperately hope that you are not about to pass a note back to Malfoy in my lesson?" Moody hadn't even turned around, but his hand that was gripping the chalk was no longer writing.

"Sorry, sir, I-"

"Sending notes in class! It's like you're asking for a detention!"

Harry kept his mouth shut this time, hoping that Moody would tire himself out. Unfortunately, the Professor simply spun round when he didn't get an answer and looked demandingly at him.

"Well? What's so important that you simply must communicate with Malfoy about?"

Harry tried to appeal to Moody with his eyes, but he was already standing there with his hand out and clearly wasn't about to back down.

"Well, Potter? We don't have all day!"

Harry stood up slowly, feeling like his name was being shot out of the TriWizard Cup all over again, and made his way over to Moody's outstretched hand. He handed the note over and tried to keep his face neutral. On the way back to his desk he made sure to glare at Malfoy, who at least seemed embarrassed enough to avoid eye contact.

"What a beautiful drawing, Malfoy!" Moody spat sarcastically. He briefly held it up for the class to see, and a couple of the Slytherins gave small snickers of approval, "Ten points from Slytherin for poor penmanship, and ten points from Gryffindor for attempting to retaliate. Can I carry on with my lesson now?"

If Harry had been slightly less terrified of him, he might have reminded Moody that he was the one who chose to make a big deal out of one little note, and Harry himself would much have rathered he had just let it be.

Half an hour later, the lesson was over and Ron was barely out of the classroom before he was making his thoughts about the situation clear.

"-And he took 10 points from us? The bastard! You hadn't even done anything, it's not your fault that Malfoy decided to be a little-"

Sometimes Harry wasn't sure who had a shorter fuse: Moody or Ron. At least he knew Ron was ready to back him up when he needed it though; come Sunday, he'd almost definitely need it.

 

*

 

Despite Harry's attempts to beat Malfoy to the library this time, by the time he reached the Romance section of Muggle Literature he knew he had failed. The other boy was sat with only one book this time though, which Harry hoped was a sign that he hadn't been there so long today.

"Risky business, sending a note in Moody's class," Harry slid into the seat opposite him. He was strangely nervous, walking over to Draco Malfoy in an empty library and starting a casual conversation. Were things going to be awkward between them, now that they had agreed that on Sunday they would be... fake-dating?

"I was fairly certain that it would work, as you were likely to be the only person who would have looked at it closely," Malfoy said confidently, closing his book calmly. Harry wondered, briefly, if these meetings were going to become a frequent occurence. 

"Well, you're lucky I didn't set fire to it on sight like I wanted to at first."

"I would at least have appreciated the irony."

"You're not usually the Potter-Appreciating sort, Malfoy, what's gotten into you today?"

"Not Potter appreciating, irony appreciating.

"Sure, sure... Anyway, as delightful as I'm finding this," Harry would be the first to admit that he was at least a bit bitter that he had taken more than his fair share of the blame back in Moody's classroom, "Why did you want to meet again?"

"Robes."

"Robes?"

"More specifically, dress robes. Mother sent me an owl this morning reminding me to place an order for mine, and I'm guessing that you haven't yet either."

"Er, no, as a matter of fact I haven't.

"We need to think about colours. Are we wanting to match or co-ordinate?"

"I don't know... Off the top of my head, matching seems a bit weird. Like we're little kids or something."

"Mm hm," Malfoy seemed to vaguely agree, which Harry took as a good sign.

"So co-ordinating then?"

"We'd need to think of colours that compliment each other."

"As opposed to those that would insult each other?"

"Shut up, Potter."

"C'mon, Malfoy, we need to work together as a team! You need to have a more positive attitude about this."

"I said shut up, I'm trying to think."

"I know you find that difficult, so just for you I'll be quieter. See - teamwork!"

This trading of insults had a different edge to it than usual. Normally they were unkind, perfectly-aimed weapons to hone in for the kill. But now their words were slightly less sharp, more of a joke than an attack. Not friendly fire just yet, but almost an alliance.

"Look, trying to think about what kinds of colours two people should wear to compliment each other is more difficult than it might seem to you, someone who clearly knows about nothing of the sort."

"Okay, let's simplify this. You have grey eyes," Harry looked at Malfoy to check quickly. His eyes were turned down to look at the parchment that he'd somehow managed to produce from his bag.

"And you have green eyes," Malfoy stated as though he wasn't sure why any of this mattered, and he didn't even look up to check.

"Been looking at my eyes a lot then, Malfoy?" Harry couldn't quite resist. If he hadn't known better, he would have said that Malfoy's pale skin turned a shade darker.

"If you aren't making a useful point then don't say anything."

"Alright, alright. How about I wear grey and you wear green?"

Malfoy paused, and his eyes flickered around the room to rest briefly on Harry before moving away again. He seemed to actually be considering it.

"You know, as much as I hate to admit it, that might not be too much of a bad idea."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, it means a lot."

"You're welcome," Malfoy scribbled something down on the parchment, "Do you know your robe measurements?"

"Um... No?"

"Of course you don't," he sighed and rolled his eyes, "Are you wearing the same ones from first year?"

"I got three sets of them and I haven't really grown since, what would be the point in buying more?" Harry said defensively.

"You haven't grown in three years?"

"Piss off, Malfoy. I don't know my measurements, okay?"

Malfoy pondered this for a second.

"If we had more time, you could go to Diagon Alley to get re-measured - in fact, that would have been a good idea anyway because dress robes are always either too big or too small. But as it is we don't have long, and of course you jetting off to London would just look weird."

"So what's the plan?"

"Well, you're Harry Potter. Every robes shop in the country probably has a copy of your measurements handy just in case you happen to stop by."

"That's pretty creepy."

"It means that all I have to do is write a convincing anonymous letter and then you'll have nice grey dress robes that would fit hopefully both you and your first year self."

"Why would a robes shop just hand out my measurements to any old stranger?" Harry was confused and a little scared.

"Don't worry, I'll make it very believable."

"I don't want to know."

"Screw Moody, my penmanship will be enough to make them more than willing to do whatever I say!"

It was at times like this where Harry almost wanted to laugh with Malfoy. Not at him, not directed to him, but with him. He wanted to hear Malfoy's laughter mix with his own, and for there to be no malice sneaking in there at all. 

But this was an alliance formed merely out of a strange necessity: nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so basically I tend to write fanfic at night and publish it straight away, and that can often lead to some very silly typos that I rarely notice.
> 
> So this is just a little warning and an apology.
> 
> I try to proofread but y'know, I'm only human and I miss things.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading this, and thanks if you've left kudos or comments or bookmarked this or anything!! I really do love this validation of my feverish gay writing


	5. Draco Malfoy May Be Flawed, But He May Also Be Hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: things get pretty cheesy up in here
> 
> Yep, it's me again! Here to tell you that I appreciate every single kudo and comment that you decide to leave (and to tell you to keep them coming if you can because I need the online validation of my writing from strangers ok thank you)
> 
> Enjoy!!

A rule emerged between Harry and Malfoy that, unless stated otherwise, they would meet in the library at lunch to discuss further arrangements for the Ball on Sunday. There always seemed to be something more that Malfoy needed to talk to Harry about, or that Harry needed to ask Malfoy, or that Harry was thinking about. In fact, Harry's brain was becoming increasingly filled with the upcoming event, and subsequently with Draco Malfoy.

It was now Friday, two days before the Ball. Harry was, for the first time, earlier than Malfoy to the library. He'd had a free period before lunch and so he'd had a definite head start, but he decided that wouldn't stop him from gloating. He was sat at their table tapping his hands against it with nothing else to do, because Malfoy was actually late now. In fact Harry was starting to consider doing what Malfoy always did when he was early and grab a few books to occupy the time.

He'd long since given up trying to understand Malfoy's mild obsession with Muggle books. It was ridiculous how someone who came from a family that had benefitted so much from oppressing anyone who didn't have pure blood in them could even look at a page of Muggle writing without spitting. Harry knew that if Hermione was there she would have called it "a disgusting fascination with the idea of a 'lesser being', a fun little way of proving that Malfoy's are superior to everyone" and might well have punched him in the face again for good measure.

That was another thing; the memory of Hermione punching Malfoy in the face didn't bring him quite as much joy as it had at the time. Harry was maybe (definitely) spending too much time with the guy, but he sometimes caught himself wondering if he wasn't all that bad. He could make a good, non-offensive joke now and then, and Harry hadn't heard him use the word 'mudblood' once. Maybe it was something to do with the lack of a crowd to play up to.

But Harry could hardly think of Malfoy as a good person. At best he was a flawed individual who came from a background that made such bigotry almost inevitable (the offhand remarks he would make occasionally about Lucius were probably a lot more telling than he had intended). 

Thinking about Hermione made Harry feel vaguely nervous; what would she think of him and Malfoy on Sunday? What if she saw it as some betrayal, like Harry was abandoning them for a life of blood purity and racism? And what if Malfoy couldn't contain himself on the night and started making snide comments about her, or Ron? Sure, he was fine when they were alone, but what about when there were crowds around to egg him on again?

Harry was falling out of the sky without a spell to keep him safe.

In true dramatic fashion however, Malfoy soon turned up to snap him out of his stupor.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, and his voice sounded completely breathless as though he'd just sprinted the length of the castle, "Charms over-ran and..."

He shook his head, drew in a shaky breath, and almost collapsed into his usual seat. Harry, heart still pounding after Malfoy had made him jump, was frankly confused. The other boy seemed a mess, his hair sticking up in all directions, his cheekbones flushed, his robes slightly askew.

Harry understood it, sometimes. The things that he'd heard many a guilty Gryffindor girl whispering about Malfoy. They always said he looked hot, in a Slytherin kind of way; moody, sharp, overly pretty. And Harry understood, sometimes. At times like this, when he wasn't quite so... intimidating.

"Uh, that's okay. I wasn't waiting long," Harry lied easily, not entirely sure why he was trying to reassure him, "Did you run here?"

"What gave it away?" Malfoy loosened his tie, and Harry suddenly felt almost as breathless as he had been. What had gotten into him today?

"Oh, I don't know, the general dishevelled look makes it kind of obvious..."

"Dishevelled is all the range now, which you'd know if you bothered to keep up with fashion."

"I don't keep up with fashion; fashion keeps up with me."

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes not unkindly, and blew a strand of hair out of his face. It stuck straight up in the air with the rest of it.

"You should keep it like that for Sunday," Harry remarked, gesturing to the hair.

"Shut up," Malfoy's hand immediately flew up to attempt to flatten it down, though Harry knew from experience that more often than not hair would not do what you wanted it to, "See, this is why I never do sports on the ground. Quidditch usually does wonders for my hair."

It did, Harry could confirm that.

Why was he being so nice to Malfoy all of a sudden?

But why shouldn't he be nice?

Why was he basing all his thoughts around Malfoy? Malfoy, who was now looking at him rather oddly - oh, he hadn't said anything. Harry racked his brains for something suitable, an insult like Malfoy was probably expecting.

"I prefer your hair when it's in your face a bit more."

Now, that wasn't what Harry had been meaning to say. And it had clearly caught Malfoy off guard.

"Why, because it covers my face more?"

Malfoy was handing him the insult on a self-prepared platter. It was what they were used to, after all. Insults and barbs and anything that they could throw at each other. But in just a few days they'd come so far... Malfoy looked slightly unnerved.

"No, I mean that it frames your face a bit more when it's not being gelled back."

"I haven't gelled it back since last year, I don't think."

"I know, but I'm just saying. In case you were in a hair dilemma for Sunday."

"Right. So I'll wear my hair gelled straight back then just to spite you, Potter."

There it was. 'Potter'. Malfoy hadn't called him it in a while, and Harry hadn't called him 'Malfoy' out loud in equally as long. Perhaps Malfoy felt things were getting a bit too friendly - and perhaps he'd be right. This was only meant to be temporary, after all.

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

They sat in silence for a moment, and Harry resisted the strange urge to check if Malfoy was looking at him. Before he could succumb, however, Malfoy was speaking again.

"Well, if that's it for today then I rather think I might head down and see if I can grab some lunch before it disappears completely."

"Sure. Wait - ... Uh..."

"Yes?"

"Ok, well, I was just thinking - what are we going to do after the Ball?"

"Sleep, I'm guessing. It's an evening thing."

"Ha ha. I mean, what are we going to tell people? That we just decided to go back to being enemies?"

"Wow, 'enemies' is a pretty strong word. I prefer to think of it as I never gave you any thought," Malfoy's tone was light, but he was clearly trying to evade the question, "Anyway, I can't say I've given it much thought."

"I guess we'll be crossing that bridge when we come to it, then."

"Yeah."

"Do you want to go out first and I'll follow?"

This was their system, their comfortable routine. One of them would leave the library first, and the other would follow after five minutes. Well, Harry tended to give it five minutes. He really had no idea what Malfoy did. More often than not, he wouldn't see him go back to the Great Hall to grab some lunch. He wondered what Malfoy did when he was alone; did he read more Muggle books? Did he find other ways to rebel, if that was indeed rebelling? Harry wasn't sure that he'd ever know.

 

*

 

Later, Harry awoke from a dream, quite unsure of himself. He couldn't remember the details, only that it was one of those very strange dreams that leave you with a strong feeling of discomfort. He was fairly certain that it had involved dancing and Draco Malfoy, but he couldn't pinpoint anything exact. 

As he lay there with the moonlight drifting in through the dormitory window, his mind couldn't help but to drift free from any constraints that he tended to place on it in his more wakeful hours. The light from the stars fell on his roommates, and he could just make out the way it fell nicely on Seamus Finnigan's sandy hair.

Seamus' hair was darker than Malfoy's, but if the moonlight washed it into a pale gold then heaven only knows how blindingly beautiful Malfoy's hair could look in the right light. It always looked soft, Malfoy's hair. Soft like the midnight moonlight floating through a window.

Harry's brain had lost all ideas of self-consciousness now, and he wondered without blushing or hushing himself what it could feel like to touch Malfoy's hair.

Harry fell asleep with a sense of warmth, and had abstract dreams of light and peace - all of which would promptly vanish from his head the moment he awoke, leaving behind only a small trace of softness that he could just feel beneath his fingertips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, Harry's turning into a walking cliche (and so am I)
> 
> Fun fact: as I was writing this I was sitting next to a Yankee candle that I kept smelling periodically until the scent had attached itself to my nose. The scent is 'Bermuda Beach' and it smells like suncream and watermelon and honestly like my childhood (tbh it might be part of my Amortentia smells)
> 
> So yeah, that was a fun writing fact from me that probably doesn't influence your reading of this latest chapter in any way


	6. Harry James Potter Is A Mess™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels like so long since I've written, but it hadn't really. I'm not too sure what my 'schedule' will be like over the next month or so (exams looming on the near horizon) so bear with me.
> 
> Anyway, I just want to say that I literally love it so much whenever I get a little notification that someone's left kudos or a nice message. So thank you.
> 
> Enjoy!!

Breakfast on Saturday was slightly tense for Harry. Malfoy had ambushed him from one of the corridors and briefly pulled him into one of the classrooms (luckily Harry was running late anyway, and not even Ron and Hermione were with him) to tell him that their robes would be arriving by post that morning. He also reminded Harry that if his didn't fit then he'd have to wear them anyway, which Harry already knew but it somehow made everything feel slightly more... real.

So there he was, sat in the Great Hall, fidgeting.

"Look, is everything alright mate?" Ron actually lowered his fork, and looked at Harry over the top of it, "That's the third time you've gone to take a bite of toast and missed your mouth."

"Oh, yeah, no, I'm fine," Harry stuttered, and quickly tried to avoid looking at the Slytherin table, "I, er, had a rough night's sleep and I'm a bit out of it this morning."

That was actually quite a lie; he'd forgotten his dreams (which were usually filled with thoughts of dragons and their eggs) the second he'd woken up, and had in fact woken up with a feeling of contentment that made finding the energy to get out of bed quite difficult.

"Looking forward to the big night, are you?" Hermione asked casually.

"The big night?" Harry asked, only half aware of the conversation. He'd just spotted Malfoy's owl fluttering through the window, but Malfoy himself was facing the other way talking to some Slytherin in the year above.

"The ball, remember?"

"Yeah, of course," Harry wasn't quite sure what sounds his mouth were making, and he was really just stalling for time. The owl was swooping into land, and Malfoy (as ever) was completely oblivious. People were starting to leave the Hall, there wasn't much time left.

Harry tried to focus on Ron and Hermione, who were giving him strange looks, but his eyes couldn't help but focus on the owl that was now attempting to head-butt Malfoy. Eventually the blonde-haired git turned around to acknowledge it.

"Earth to Harry?"

"Yes, sorry?"

This was all too distracting. The bird was carrying one big parcel that could easily have both of their robes within it; Harry hoped and prayed that neither set had been forgotten. When Malfoy had untied the package and stroked the owl's head once, his eyes looked up sharply and went straight to the Gryffindor table. Harry couldn't help but wonder if he'd known that Harry was staring all along, or whether Malfoy was just going to try and catch his eye.

Either way, they held eye contact for a few seconds in which Harry felt a knot of suspense forming in his stomach, and then Malfoy rolled his eyes and set about unwrapping the parcel.

"...And we just want to know that you're definitely alright. And that you know that we don't particularly care who you take to the Ball tomorrow, so long as you're both happy. And that also there's no shame in going alone; I'm not saying that's the case, but if it is..."

Hermione was talking quite quickly, and seemed fairly eager that Harry understood. He felt guilty for having completely ignored the first part of her speech, but at least he was grounded in the conversation and present moment once again.

"I'm okay, 'Mione. Really. Don't worry. My only worry for tomorrow night is the fact that I'm going to have to dance in front of people, and that I've never worn dress robes before."

"I wore them once for my uncle's wedding. They were itchy and uncomfortable - but then Fred and George were experimenting with some new itching powder, so I don't know..."

Hermione smiled briefly before turning back to Harry.

"You'll be fine, trust me. But you know, you could always ask your mysterious partner for some sneaky dance practice at lunch today?"

"I'll bear that in mind," Harry grimaced at her curious look, all too aware of the fact that she had taken it to be a personal challenge as to whether or not she could work out who he was taking.

Harry allowed himself a quick look to Malfoy. He was now holding the parcel out of the reaching hands of Pansy Parkinson and laughing. It was a rare, but not unpleasant, sight to see Malfoy laughing.

 

*

 

"Wow, you're hardly late this time," Malfoy shut his book and regarded Harry, who was quite out of breath, "Were you running?"

"Nope. Maybe. Yeah."

Harry dragged himself into a chair, and rested his face against the cool surface of the table. Malfoy let him have a couple of seconds of peace before he dumped something thick and heavy over his head. 

Ah. The dress robes. Harry hadn't quite been able to forget about them. He removed them delicately from over his face, adjusted his glasses, and looked at them. They were a soft grey colour, dark but not too dark, shiny but not too shiny. 

On a whim, he held a section up to Malfoy's face to compare them to his eyes. A perfect match.

"I know that them knowing my measurements was creepy, but them also knowing your exact eye colour is also pretty weird."

Harry became suddenly aware of how close his hands were to Malfoy's face, and something inside him twisted. He slowly lowered the fabric.

"What can I say, Madam Malkin's knows everything about everyone."

"They're really cool," Harry let his fingers trail over the material, "Let's just hope they fit."

"Well, I was thinking... Everyone's at lunch right now, how about we go try them on?"

"Where?"

"There are some toilets literally right outside here. No-one tends to go in them anyway, but probably especially not now."

"Sure, let's go."

Once they'd made it completely out of the library and it's hushed silence, Harry felt more strange than anything else. They only walked a little way down the corridor, but it still felt weird to be walking anywhere with Draco Malfoy that he wasn't being forced to. Malfoy pushed open the door to the boys toilets, and then they let it swing shut behind them. Sealing them in.

Harry felt a certain strange something stirring within him. Nerves? He seemed to be nervous a lot these days.

"Right, well, I'm going to go and..." Harry tailed off, fairly sure that sentence was doomed from the start. He ducked awkwardly into one of the cubicles, and after a second or so Malfoy did the same.

Harry released his rather tight grip on the parcel slightly, and took a moment to look at his new dress robes again. Whether they fitted him or not, they were his now. The last time he'd bought new clothes must have been when he bought his first set of wizard robes. Wow, that had been a long time ago. Diagon Alley with Hagrid... What would Hagrid think, when Harry showed up to the Yule Ball pretending to date (or whatever it was they were doing) the boy who had nearly cost him his job? The boy who had ensured that Buckbeak was sentenced to death?

"How do they seem?" Malfoy's low voice drifted over from the cubicle to his left, and Harry jumped into action.

"Pretty good, I think? I'll check in with you in a bit," he said, awkwardly removing his current robes.

"Right," Malfoy sounded coolly amused, which seemed to be his default expression. Only a few seconds later Harry heard the click of the lock and the sound of Malfoy leaving his cubicle.

"Are you done already?"

"Dress robes, Potter, get much easier with time. I remember the first time I put them on and I felt like I was suffocating."

"Wow, you would make the perfect dress robes salesman."

Malfoy snorted, and Harry heard him move away. For a second he thought Malfoy might leave him here, but he stopped soon after. Probably checking his hair in the mirror, Harry reasoned.

"Are you nearly done in there?"

"Why are wizards so difficult? Why can't these things just be easy to put on?" 

"Because we're wizards. Dress robes are magic, you see. You have to relax to be able to get them on properly, otherwise you end up all tangled. Take a couple of deep breaths."

Harry actually complied - before he caught the note of sarcasm.

"You're having me on, aren't you?"

"However did you guess that one?"

"Well your hilarious deadpan delivery made things tough, but I got there in the end."

"Oh good - wouldn't want you to miss out on a perfectly good joke simply because you didn't understand it."

Harry gave a deliberate sigh, and gave a final check-over of the dress robes that he eventually managed to fit around himself. They were tight, but not too tight. Fashionably so, perhaps? And the grey was a nice colour.

"Right, I'm done, you best prepare yourself," Harry felt pretty foolish, walking out of the toilet cubicle like he was walking out to a big audience. Instead there was just Malfoy, stood leaning against the sink like he couldn't care less about the world.

Harry hadn't had a chance to see them before, but Malfoy's robes were definitely the exact shade of Harry's eyes. A dark green, like the forest, that seemed to make his skin glow and his hair look extra soft.

Malfoy generally looked very good. His robes, like Harry's, were certainly fitted - and Harry just hoped that they looked as good on him as they did on Malfoy. Because they did, after all, look very good on Malfoy.

"Your verdict?" Malfoy said, studying Harry. They were stood only a metre of so apart, and Harry wasn't quite sure if it was too close or not close enough. He felt like he was maybe missing something about Malfoy, like he needed to be looking harder to take it all in.

"You look really great," Harry blurted, and was perfectly aware of how his slightly-too-high voice echoed around the bathroom.

"As do you, but I was more referring to your opinion of you own robes?"

"Oh. Yeah, they're really nice. I like them," Harry took the opportunity to look at himself in the mirror. They were definitely high-quality robes. Malfoy, still standing a metre away, seemed slightly pinker than normal.

Wait. Did Malfoy just say he looked great? Harry's brain, which had been numbly plodding along as things kept spiralling out of control, seemed to suddenly catch up with and overtake him. It fell over itself, tripping on things he should say and things he definitely shouldn't.

"Good. They suit you."

Harry felt vaguely light headed. Whatever was going on with him, it really wasn't good.

"How much were they? Stuff like this doesn't come cheap," Harry pulled the conversation desperately into another direction, not sure how Malfoy expected him to react.

"Not too much."

"Because I'll pay you back, Malfoy, you shouldn't have to pay for both of our sets." 

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter."

"Then you don't be ridiculous either."

"I'm not being ridiculous."

"Yes you are! Come on, I don't want to have to owe you this."

"It's fine, my father paid for everything."

"Okay yeah, that changes everything. Now you absolutely have to let me give you the money. I flat out refuse to owe your father a debt of any kind."

"Okay, okay, compromise: we'll sort out anything regarding money after tomorrow night. Until then, let's just focus on how we're going to get through this."

Harry was starting to get to know when Malfoy really wanted him to drop something, and this was one of those times. 

"Speaking of which, how are we going to dance at this thing? I don't know how to dance."

"Of course you don't."

"And I'm assuming you do?"

"Luckily for the both of us, yes I do."

"Of course you do."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, and suddenly moved his body slightly closer to Harry's. He placed his arms in what Harry assumed was some kind of dance-related starting position, and stood there.

"Well, come on then."

"What do I do?"

"Put your arm on my arm... No, not like that you idiot... There. Now, I'm going to hold your hand. Not that hand! The other one. Right, okay. Now I'm going to put my hand on your waist."

"My what?"

"Your waist, Potter, listen up."

And so, things went on; and on and on and on, until Harry could dance at what Malfoy described as a 'reasonable level'. After that, though neither would admit it, they ended up just dancing for fun.

It was quite nice, to be so close to someone. Harry didn't know much about dancing, but it was fairly safe to assume that Malfoy had taken the role of the traditional man and let Harry have the role of the traditional woman. It did feel safer that way, to be steered in the right direction at all times by a pair of warm, strong arms. Though Harry couldn't imagine what it would be like for that to translate into all aspects of his life.

The dingy boy's bathroom no longer felt like such. The lights softened and any noise faded away into the background. It was like Harry was seeing everything through a stained glass window pane, where everything was colourful and a little distorted.

A slightly massive problem occurred when Malfoy suddenly decided to lean Harry right down nearly to the ground. Their faces were suddenly so close and Harry could see directly into Malfoy's eyes, the colour of which he'd surely have burned into his mind for ever after all this.

Malfoy was the only thing keeping Harry off the ground. Malfoy and his strong arms, his soft hair, his warm breath on Harry's face.

A change seemed to happen then. It was like some wires in Harry's brain accidentally touched and sent sparks down into the rest of his body. Because, without warning, all Harry wanted to do was to push against the gaps and boundaries between them until they broke. Maybe he just liked destruction.

Harry was fairly certain that, had they stayed there just a second longer, there would have been no space left between them whatsoever. But then the bell rang, and Malfoy was pulling him up off the floor, and they were heading back into the cubicles to change back into their school robes.

Harry did know several things though now.

1- he now had a basic idea of how to dance, which was reassuring.

2- he was a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also a bit of a mess, so I relate to Harry a bit too much. Unfortunately, though, I don't even have a basic idea of how to dance.


	7. The Yule Ball Part 1: The Entrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, big thank you to everyone who reads this - especially those who leave kudos and comments, all of them mean a lot to me. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

Harry awoke the morning of the Ball with fluttering in his stomach like fairy wings. Who knew what the day ahead would bring? He had a vague feeling that his friends weren't going to be the only ones who were surprised tonight; he didn't really think that he would be immune from any shocks either.

Getting dressed proved an interesting challenge. His dress robes were stowed safely under his bed, away from public view, but part of him ached to try them on one more time. They were very good quality, and a nice colour, and surely it couldn't hurt...?

But he knew that even taking them out of the wrappings would be dangerous whilst Ron and Seamus were wandering in and out of the room still looking bleary eyed. So he forced himself to stick to his everyday robes, and tried to cast his mind into other areas. Inevitably, however, it always found it's way back to the Yule Ball.

What was he going to tell people, when they saw him and Malfoy arm in arm? 

Sure, they'd made the vague decision that, for maximum impact, they'd maybe pretend to be dating. But what exactly did that entail? Dancing and talking civilly were one thing, but more than that was bound to be expected from a couple.

Harry supposed, in an abstract way, that he wouldn't mind too much if he had to put on a show with Malfoy. Not that it would be the kind of thing he'd seek to do out of his own free will - but Malfoy wasn't hugely bad to look at, and the total hours spent in the library with Harry this week had smoothed the sneer off his face. In fact, several times now, Malfoy had actually smiled at Harry. It was a nice smile.

But Harry was straight. And it was only for one night. What could possibly go wrong?

"Earth to Harry?" Harry jumped, and suddenly became aware of the fact that Ron was waving a hand in front of his face.

"What?"

"Mate, your brain must be fully occupied with this Ball thingy. You do realise you're already wearing a pair of socks, right?"

Harry looked down at his foot, where up until a few seconds ago he had been trying to put another sock over the top of the original one.

"Oh. Right, yep," Harry set about sorting himself out.

"Merlin's beard, you must be pretty nervous."

"Funnily enough I am, yeah."

"D'you even know how to dance?"

"I - er - got some practice recently."

Ron looked at him with raised eyebrows and a grin.

"With your mysterious date?"

"No, with a dragon."

"Sure, sure. I hope you and the future Mrs Potter had a nice, safe time with your dancing."

Harry rolled his eyes, tried not to react to the assumed pronouns, and made to change the subject.

"What about you and Padma? Have you even spoken yet?"

"I'll have you know that, other than all of our cute little smiles that we share in the corridors, we have had a total of four conversations."

"The one where you asked her to the Ball doesn't count, you and I both know that you asked her and then ran away when she said yes."

"Yes, but then when I went back we had another conversation, so actually that whole encounter counts as two separate times."

"So other than that you've spoken to her... Twice?"

"Yep. We're like that old Muggle couple everyone references - the one where they all die?"

"Romeo and Juliet. That's definitely not a good thing."

"Whatever, Harry, we're a wizarding love story. Now put your shoes on and let's go to breakfast."

The second Harry entered the doors to the great hall, he did exactly what he'd started doing recently without meaning to. He looked straight to the Slytherin table for his familiar, blonde-haired... friend? Maybe. Not yet?

Anyway, Malfoy was sat as usual with Crabbe on one side and Goyle on the other. Harry, as usual, took a moment to study him, hoping he wouldn't sense he was being watched. Malfoy was eating a bacon sandwich very slowly and carefully, but he didn't seem to be paying much attention to it. His eyes were trained downwards, but they were not quite looking at what he was doing. Was Malfoy as nervous as Harry?

"Wow!"

Ron's exclamation of excitement brought Harry back down to earth, and then they were moving properly into the hall and over to the Gryffindor table.

"Wow" was right. The hall, as was tradition, was lined with Christmas trees that had somehow managed to grow even taller than last year (Hagrid had spent the past six months telling everyone who'd listen about his 'tree children'). Snowflakes were drifting down from the ceiling and melting away just before they could brush the tops of heads; disembodied lights kept twinkling in and out of existence amidst the snow, light a maze of ghostly fairy lights; and the suits of armours had their bodies wrapped tightly in brightly coloured tinsel that seemed to be charmed to rustle and move in the non-existent breeze. The students that were already sat down were enjoying a breakfast that seemed even more luxurious than normal. A beautiful kind of non-human singing seemed to echo in from the very walls, and every now and then there would be a few festive chimes as if to prove that the warbling really was something to do with the holidays.

All of the teachers at the staff table were wearing reindeer ears; some, like Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall seemed to have accepted their fate and wore the ears with style. Others, such as Professor Snape, were glowering.

Professor Dumbledore had on the largest Santa-style hat that Harry had personally ever seen. The man seemed happier than ever before, though judging from the confused looks some pure-bloods from the Slytherin table were giving it Harry had to wonder if he even knew what a Santa hat was.

Hermione was waiting for Ron and Harry when they finally sat down. She seemed to be in a good mood, humming under her breath as she poured herself some pumpkin juice.

"You seem to be in the festive spirit, Hermione," Ron started, casually enough.

"Yes I rather am, and no that isn't going to make me tell you who I'm taking to the Ball tonight."

Ron shrugged, and tucked into some toast.

Harry took a moment to look around the hall once more - and his gaze immediately went over to Malfoy; the only trouble was that Malfoy also happened to be looking in his vague direction as well. Harry's eyes slid away on instinct.

"What time does it start again?" Ron spoke around the croissant that he had moved onto.

"8 o'clock."

"Right. How are you both feeling? Harry? Hermione? Nervous? Excited? Like you want to get anything off your chest?"

"You really wouldn't make a particularly good detective, you know," Harry tried to avoid looking past Ron to where Malfoy would be sitting, maybe still looking over at him.

"I'm just going easy on you guys because you're my friends, and I care a lot about your well-being. Wouldn't want you to think you couldn't confide in me, or whatever."

Hermione gave a snort, and Harry just shook his head. 

"Alright, fine. I give up - for now."

"Ron, you'll literally find out this evening."

"True. But Harry, I'm just saying, if you've managed to get a date with one of the Beauxbatons girls then you're going to have to introduce me."

"And if it's one of the Durmstrang girls?" Hermione said with an innocent smile. The Durmstrang girls were all terrifyingly beautiful, and looked as though they could snap your neck with just a flick of the wrist. Harry didn't know of any Hogwarts boy who'd approached them without chickening out yet.

"Then hopefully you'll be able to introduce me to Viktor Krum as well."

Hermione went a bit pinker than usual, and Harry wondered idly whether she was going with one of the Durmstrang boys. They all seemed the same to Harry; big, strong, handsome, not usually too talkative. That didn't really seem to be Hermione's type. But then Harry was taking Malfoy, so who was he to talk?

Just thinking of the boy made Harry's eyes drift involuntarily to him. Once again, Malfoy was already one step ahead of him and was looking right back at Harry. When Harry refused to back down this time, despite a voice telling him that he probably should, Malfoy gave a slight roll of his eyes. Harry sent a small smile back, and this time Malfoy was the first to look away as Pansy Parkinson leaned over and tugged on his sleeve.

At least there was someone else who understood a little.

 

*

 

Seven o'clock swung round all too quickly, and then Harry was back in his grey dress robes. Ron gave him a bit of a funny look when they saw each other, though he wasn't exactly one to talk considering the amount of frills he was wearing.

"The colour really suits you," he said, when Harry asked him why he was staring. But Ron still looked like he was missing something, and Harry wondered if he recognised the colour as being that of Draco Malfoy's eyes.

When they got down to the Entrance Hall, Professor McGonagall was waiting for them. She was wearing a set of red tartan robes and a matching hat, and looking at the small stream of students trickling past with what was almost an uncharacteristic fondness.

"Weasley. Potter. If only you were this early for my lessons. You've both cleaned up fairly well, congratulations."

"Thanks, Professor."

Harry made to follow Ron and the rest of the students who were making their way through the doors into the Great Hall, from which vague sounds of light music were emanating.

"Potter! Champions and their partners are this way, thank you," McGonagall's voice was back to stern and exasperated.

Ron, disappointed and looking more than a little nervous, turned back to Harry.

"I guess I'll catch up with you later then, mate?"

"I don't think I'll be too hard to miss."

Ron narrowed his eyes at this clue, and Harry shrugged and waved.

"Say hi to Padma for me!"

He then followed McGonagall's curt pointing over to an inconspicuous corner where Cedric Diggory was standing calmly with Cho Chang, and Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies were becoming increasingly entangled.

"How's it going Harry?" Cho smiled at him, and Harry smiled back. He'd always thought Cho was pretty and had a kind face, and she matched Diggory well.

"Not too bad, actually. How're things with you guys?"

"Pretty good - it's exciting watching everyone go in, isn't it?"

Harry nodded, and looked around in the slight pause that followed.

"So we're waiting for Krum then?"

"Yep. And whoever you're-"

Luckily, before he was forced to answer any questions about Malfoy's existence, he saw Cho and Cedric look over his shoulder in what seemed to be surprise. Roger and Fleur didn't look round, but that didn't mean too much so Harry turned to see what was going on. Most of the students were in the great hall now; they were just waiting on a few stragglers. But a couple of those stragglers were particularly eye-catching.

Viktor Krum had entered the entrance hall with a beautiful girl in delicate blue dress robes.

Harry felt something weird about the sight; maybe it was the lack of a group of giggling girls trailing behind the international Quidditch star. But then the couple got closer, and he heard the girl laugh, and suddenly it all made sense.

Hermione Granger had brought Viktor Krum to the dance.

The pair came over to stand with them, and as they walked past McGonagall her and Hermione seemed to share a moment of approval.

"Hey Harry!" Hermione looked at him with a kind of burning, nervous happiness. It was like she couldn't believe what was happening, and unless Harry was very much mistaken Krum looked quite the same, "This is Viktor, Viktor this is Harry."

As if she needed to introduce Viktor Krum!

"It is very nice to meet you again in this way, Harry," Krum said in his deep, accented voice. He reached out a hand to shake Harry's.

"Er, thanks, you too."

Cedric moved forward from behind Harry, and went to shake Krum's hand as well. Whilst they were distracted, Harry edged closer to Hermione.

"Ron's going to freak out when he sees," he murmured.

"I know, that's partially why I didn't want to tell you. Also you'd never have believed me."

"That's not true!"

"Isn't it?"

"Trust me, 'Mione, much stranger things have happened. So long as you're happy with Viktor Krum and can get us his autograph, we're happy for you."

"Thanks," she said dryly, and then her eyes snapped to meet his, "Wait. Where's your date?"

"I, er-"

Harry faltered for a second, unsure. Then, once again, he was saved from a tricky question; only this time the question was answered for him. A warm hand touched his upper arm, and he jumped a little and turned.

Malfoy was stood there, slightly out of breath, in his perfectly green robes.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, calmly, his hand only just moving away from Harry's arm. Harry didn't need to look around to know that Hermione's head would be in the process of exploding, "Goyle had a mixup with his robes, it wasn't pretty."

"That's alright," Harry heard himself say, as if from far away. Why was it that Malfoy always had to look so good? His hair fell artfully across his forehead in soft waves, and the green of his robes made his skin literally glow. The light from the burning torch in the bracket above them seemed to throw everyone else in darkness but bathe Malfoy in a soft spotlight. Harry could pull his eyes away. "You, erm, look really nice."

"So do you. The colour really does suit you."

Malfoy looked him up and down, and even though Harry knew it was all for show he couldn't help but stand a little straighter. When Malfoy's eyes reached his face again and gave a small smile, Harry almost thought the barely audible squeak Hermione made behind him had come from his own mouth.

Harry was sorely tempted to awkwardly re-introduce them in the same way as Hermione had done just a minute or so earlier, but before he had the opportunity the doors of the Great Hall swung closed. The music and voices that had been the backdrop to all conversation were suddenly blocked off, and the Entrance Hall seemed eerily quiet. Then McGonagall made her way over to their corner, and looked at a roll of parchment briefly.

"Right, we're all here then?" If she was surprised by Malfoy's presence in their ranks then she didn't say anything, and instead she carried on, "Good. In a short while, the doors will be opened once more. A pathway of sorts will be formed through the student body into the centre of the Hall. The tables have been removed, and this area is now the dance floor; I will lead you there, and will then leave you to find your own spaces in the area. I will go and stand by the Headmaster, and this is the cue for the music to begin. I would then like you to bow once to your partner and to begin dancing. After a few counts, the signal will be given for the rest of the students to join in if they are so inclined; and your job of opening this ball will essentially be over. Any questions?"

She looked briefly at everyone, and when there was no response she continued: "Great. Let us assemble."

They stood in a line in their little pairs behind her like ducklings: Roger and Fleur, then Viktor and Hermione, then Draco and Harry, and then Cho and Cedric. Harry felt the nerves wind up within them, and he shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

In front of him, he watched Hermione slip her arm into Viktor's, and then looked at Malfoy from the corner of his eye. Was he supposed to do the same?

The doors were beginning to open, and Harry could hear the hushed whispers of all of the students floating out.

In a moment of panic, Harry held his arm out to Malfoy. In response, the boy looked at him and rolled his eyes.

"I'm taller, it would make more sense for it to be the other way round."

But they were starting to walk now, with McGonagall leading them into the thick of battle, and so Malfoy didn't really have any choice. He looped his arm around Harry's with a sigh, and Harry held back a smile. There were worse people to go into battle with, really. He was suddenly, overwhelmingly glad that Malfoy was his comrade in this.

Harry heard the gasps and whispers increase as Hermione and Krum crossed the threshold of the Hall. It was their turn next. He forced himself to hold his head up high, and drew himself slightly closer into Malfoy. They needed to look convincing, after all.

And then the light of the Hall consumed them. It looked much like it had at breakfast, only it seemed cleaner and fresher and brighter somehow. The sky-ceiling was dark and starry, and there were more floating candles than usual which gave the a Hall a flickering, cosy feel to it.

If people gasped when they saw Hermione and Krum, it was nothing compared to what happened next. The crowd went... Silent. No one said anything; you could have heard a wand drop. 

Harry felt the eyes of hundreds upon him as he and Malfoy moved through the crowd. They weren't malicious stares, not overly mocking or unkind. It was shock, pure and simple. Even those younger and older knew of the rivalry between the two boys, that which had made this the most unexpected twist.

Harry stopped himself looking for Ron's face in the others; he didn't want to know what he'd see there.

The door swung shut behind them, sealing them inside the Hall. The walk to the dance floor felt like the trek of a lifetime, and simultaneously went by in a flash. Harry kept flitting between worrying that he was leaning too heavily on Malfoy, and worrying that the lack of closeness between them would make people suspicious.

Each couple moved into a space when they reached the area that was empty of other students. McGonagall continued walking steadily, up to the front where Dumbledore was stood in starry blue robes, still wearing the Santa hat. When she was stood appropriately, she gave a smile and a nod that Harry barely had time to register before the music started.

In a flash, him and Malfoy were bowing to each other, and next moment Malfoy had grabbed his waist and they were dancing. The music was soft and sweet, not fast and not slow; Harry was rather too focused on not standing on Malfoy's goes or tripping over his own feet to pay much attention to the lyrics. He wasn't sure whether it was his own hand that was uncomfortably warm or whether it was Malfoy's, and Malfoy was gripping him rather too tight for it to be overly comfortable. But whenever he glanced up at the other boy, there was always a smile that was just the right amount of nervous. It seemed that fear had softened Malfoy.

After what felt like far too long, the rest of the students made their way onto the dance floor as well. It soon became a mess of trying to avoid colliding with couples, and Harry kept his eyes trained on the floor to keep himself stable. He just let Malfoy lead him and steer him, and it wasn't too bad overall.

Every now and then, he would look up briefly at the same the same time as Malfoy was looking down at him, and their eyes would meet. Maybe it was just the sheer stress of opening the dance, maybe it was the fact that they were pressed together by the force of the crowd; maybe it had to do with the warm, atmospheric candles that floated lazily overhead. But Harry felt something pass between them, like the most ancient form of magic. Something right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In writing this chapter, I used a bit of the book as a reference, but for the scene where they enter the great hall to start dancing I used my memory of the film and good old imagination - just wanted to shed a bit of light on that.
> 
> Fun fact: I considered writing loads more and finishing this fic in this chapter, but I am a bit too lazy. So we'll see how it continues! (Early estimate: 2 more chapters)


	8. The Yule Ball Part 2: The Exit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see!! I'm finally done with exams, which means that I am finally, finally, FINALLY able to update this fic!
> 
> Enjoy!

"Who knew dancing was this exhausting?" Malfoy seemed out of breath, and Harry felt quite the same. They had made their way subtly to the side of the Hall where the tables were, after weaving in and out of dancing people and smiling awkwardly at anyone who looked at them twice.

It wasn't a threatening atmosphere as such; Harry didn't feel that unsafe, other than a few dirty looks from the more bigoted of the students. But it wasn't entirely pleasant either, and he suddenly understood why Parvati and Lavender had been worried. He'd been meaning to try and check in with them, but so far he'd been too preoccupied to do so. He hoped what he was doing was helpful to them, in some way or another. After all, that was the only reason he was doing it.

"I know, it's more tiring than Quidditch even."

Malfoy gave what seemed to be a genuine smile; Harry couldn't help but notice that he was smiling a lot more than usual tonight. Maybe the soft lighting and the snow outside and the music had him feeling a little giddy.

Even though no one seemed to want to cause him or Malfoy harm, Harry couldn't help but feel on edge. Everywhere he turned it felt like people were looking at them. Of course they were - this was what they had expected, what they had planned for. Except Harry never planned for it to feel like this. People were either judging, as though this was the worst mistake in the history of the wizarding world, or looking as though their wildest dreams had come true. Potter and Malfoy - could it really be?

"Heads up, Pansy's making her way over here," Malfoy stood a little straighter, and on instinct Harry copied him. Sure enough, Pansy Parkinson, looking perfectly nice in her dress robes, was storming over with a face like thunder.

"What in Merlin's spell book, Draco? Why didn't you tell me you were bringing him?" She punched Malfoy on the arm, and Harry couldn't help but wince slightly. It looked like that hurt.

"Ow! I, er, thought it might make a nice surprise!" Malfoy cringed away from her, and rubbing his arm and leaning more into Harry as a result.

"A nice surprise?" Pansy huffed under her breath, before sighing heavily and turning to Harry, who recoiled. 

"Now, Pans, play nice," Malfoy warned jokingly (Harry hoped he was joking). Pansy just rolled her eyes extravagantly. 

"Well, Potter. I suppose we're family now," she sniffed, "Since Draco has finally decided to grow up and ask you out I guess we should make peace now."

She held out a hand for him to shake, which he did so.

"Actually technically I asked Malfoy out," Harry said, and then smiled as warmly as he could without vomiting at Malfoy, who looked like he'd rather be dead than be anywhere near the pair of them.

"As far as I'm concerned, it was a long time coming. I was sick to death of him going on and on about you in the common room, all Potter this and Potter that. And when you two actually came face to face - that was worse! You could cut the sexual tension with a knife."

Harry wasn't finding this so funny any more, but Pansy wasn't done yet.

"And you were no better, Potter. Acting like we couldn't see you looking at him all the time, like you were trying to figure him out or something. Of course Draco always denied anything, ever the modest one, but we all knew what you were thinking. It was written all over your Gryffindor face, we could always tell that you-"

"Malfoy, modest? I have no idea what you're talking about!" Harry tried a belated joke, in the hopes that she might stop this very personal attack. It seemed to work - she looked at him with a vague appreciation.

"You're cute, Potter," she said, in her matter-of-fact way before turning back to Malfoy, "I've decided you've done well, Draco. Mama Pansy is proud."

"Thank you," Malfoy forced out.

"You're welcome, weirdo." She shook her head fondly, "Right, I'm off to go mingle. Stay safe, kids."

She then melted away into the dancing throng of people, leaving behind two confused people who were almost starting to understand.

"So she's nice," Harry said, breathing out heavily. He suddenly became aware that Malfoy was still standing close to him, a warm presence that he was starting to get used to at his side.

"She really can be, y'know, when she wants to be. We've been friends since forever, you know how it is..." Malfoy was rambling as much as Malfoy ever did, and Harry got the sense that he was embarrassed at what happened.

Scanning the crowd as a distraction, he spotted two familiar non-dancing people who were facing in his and Malfoy's direction. He'd been waiting for this.

"Okay, looks like it's my turn now," he said, and nodded to Ron and Hermione when Malfoy looked confused, "Be a dear and go and get us some drinks?"

"Why should I?"

"Because I asked you to?" Harry said, and then remembered where they were in time to start piling it on in a sing-song voice, "Because we're dating? Because we're so very happy together? Because I loooooooove you? Darling?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, disgusted, and Harry laughed. The upshot was that Malfoy did slide away in the direction of the drinks, and Harry could turn his attention to his concerned looking friends.

"Harry! Do you want to explain what's going on?"

"Blimey, mate, no wonder you didn't want to tell us."

"Is he bribing you?"

"Are you cursed?"

"Is it blackmail?"

"No! Come on guys, I just..." Harry cast around for the right words to explain his predicament to his friends, but try as he might he couldn't find them.

Malfoy might be fine lying to Pansy, but Harry was going to tell Ron and Hermione the truth. Or at least a version of it. He wasn't entirely sure what his truth was any more.

"We're not actually dating," Harry lowered his voice and looked around to make sure no one else was listening. Over Hermione's shoulder he could see Malfoy staring at them whilst trying to pour Butterbeer into a cup at the same time. Harry wiggled his eyebrows at him, and Malfoy rolled his eyes in response, and returned his gaze to the drinks before disaster struck.

Ron's "ooooh" of realisation brought Harry back to the situation at hand.

"So you lost a bet or something, then?" Ron nodded.

"No! I actually asked him out of my own free will, funnily enough."

"But... Why?"

"Well, you know how Parvati and Lavender are here together?"

"Yeah, I think it's really great of them! They were so nervous about it, but they seem to be having a lovely time!"

"Exactly, Parvati seemed worried when she spoke to me about it after Potions one day, and then she mentioned something about wishing someone else was doing it too, and so that got me thinking..."

"Why Malfoy, of all people though? He's such a git!"

"Yeah, he was and kind of still is. But once you get to know him he's a lot better - I haven't heard him use the M-slur at all recently!"

"So now that he's finally stopped using a horrible racial slur so much we're expected to believe that he's a good person?" Hermione asked, with a raised eyebrow. This was what Harry dreaded; the disappointment.

"No, I don't expect that, and I'm sorry that I sprung this on you. But Malfoy can be an alright person when he wants to be, and spending time with him recently has been fun. And I think I'd like to spend more time with him after tonight as well." Harry knew as he was saying it that he meant it. Malfoy wasn't good as such, but he could be fun and alive and when he laughed - really, properly laughed - his eyes sparkled like never before. And Harry wasn't quite willing to give it up now.

"Are you sure he's not trying to hurt you? Are you sure we can trust him?" Hermione had pursed lips similar to McGonagall's, but at least she no longer seemed so hurt.

"I assume that you're talking about me?" Malfoy appeared behind Hermione, making everyone in their little group jump at once. Malfoy handed Harry a cup of Butterbeer, which he happily accepted. Ron and Hermione stood there awkwardly, which was answer enough.

"No I am not trying to hurt anyone, and yes you can trust me," Malfoy said quite seriously. Harry figured he should bring him up to speed.

"I told them we weren't together."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I figured I might as well. People have to find out at some point."

"True," Malfoy nodded, and turned quickly to look at Hermione once more. "I want you to know, Granger, that... I am sorry. For saying and doing horrible things... There really is no excuse, and I don't expect you to forgive me. But I just wanted you to know. You too, Weasley."

Ron coughed, and shuffled uncomfortably.

"Right. Thanks."

"Thank you, Malfoy. That helps. I can't believe I'm about to say this but... Call me Hermione."

"And feel free to call me Ron. If you want, it's up to you, I don't mind-"

"Okay, Ron, Hermione. I'm Draco, it's good to meet you."

Malfoy held out his hand to shake both of theirs, and Harry was suddenly struck by how surreal the situation was. A fresh start, four years later. Maybe this could be the start of something better.

"Of course, that doesn't make the things you did any better. And if I ever see you supporting or taking part in any racism or bigotry again I will hex you right out of Hogwarts. Same goes for if you ever hurt Harry."

"Hermione," Harry muttered, "We're not... He's not..."

"I know, and my point still stands."

"Right. I'll bear that in mind," Malfoy nodded.

Harry looked between his friends, and he had no idea where they were supposed to go from here. As much as he loved Ron and Hermione, he felt like he should be spending more alone time with Malfoy. To keep up appearances.

"We'll let you go act like a couple then," Hermione smiled knowingly, and Ron looked vaguely traumatised.

"Don't be too convincing!" Ron looked vaguely nauseous, and the two of them walked away.

"Well." Draco said, seeming unsure.

"Well." Harry also felt the uncertainty in his voice.

"It was nice to talk to them, to get their approval," Draco said lightly, and Harry couldn't help smiling.

"Yep, and it was also good to know that Pansy thinks I'm cute now."

"To be fair I think she always thought you were cute, but was just too proud to admit it."

"That kind of sounds like someone else, doesn't it?"

The jokey, entirely not serious, mocking impression of flirting that Harry had previously enjoyed putting on was starting to slip. He sensed danger up ahead, but he wasn't quite willing to stop yet.

"Maybe," Malfoy said, with that same hint of lilting caution.

"Maybe Pansy isn't the only one who thinks I'm cute."

"Maybe she's just starting to come to terms with it."

Harry was looking at the floor, and, from what he could gather out of the corner of his eye, Malfoy was staring determinedly at the ceiling.

He didn't know what to say.

"I really don't want to get hexed," Malfoy said, after a while. 

"So don't hurt me and you'll be just fine."

"Believe me, I don't plan on it."

"Good."

What did this mean? Was it just the atmospheric lighting and romantic setting that had them acting this way? Pansy had said it was a 'long time coming' or whatever - what did that mean? Harry wasn't... Harry didn't like Draco Malfoy. He had been absolutely sure of this when he asked him out and started this whole thing, but now... Now he knew Malfoy more, now he'd sat at a small table at a disused corner in the library and talked with him... Who knew how Harry felt now. Not Harry, that's for sure.

He'd always known Malfoy was vaguely attractive. It was partly what made him so hateable; he was always looking perfect, never a hair out of place. That didn't mean Harry was attracted to him. Except he was, in the sense that he was always so angry whenever he saw Malfoy, so ready to insult and even fight him. He was attracted to him in the way that magnets attract, unstoppable and unexplainable. Malfoy was bright and fierce and quick, and Harry was... spiralling, fast.

His brain was falling down a dark slope that he'd never dared to even glance down at. He was no longer at the stage where denying anything was possible; he was lost; he was too far gone-

"Harry!" 

Everything seemed to snap back into focus with the sharp sound of his own name that gave him a physical, visceral shock.

"We've been looking for you all over - never thought you'd be standing by the tables not talking like two lonely wallflowers!"

Parvati and Lavender were stood in front of him, arms linked, looking perfect in matching robes. They seemed... happy. Harry wasn't sure if he imagined it or not, but Malfoy seemed to move closer to him. 

"Yeah we, er, got a bit bored of dancing and talking to people and stuff..."

"Fair enough, I don't blame you," Lavender seemed to glow as she spoke, "Everyone keeps coming up to us and asking questions and congratulating - I can't imagine what it must be like for you!"

Malfoy gave a quiet laugh that only Harry could really hear. 

"I have to say, Potter, I never thought you'd actually do it!" Parvati grinned.

"Do what?" Harry asked, concerned she was about to start going on about how she'd been expecting him to ask out Malfoy since day one or something - to be honest, after everything else that had happened tonight, he wouldn't have been too surprised.

"You know, the whole taking-a-guy thing. Don't get me wrong, it was really good of you to do that, I think it's taken the focus off of us a bit; all anyone can talk about is you guys. I just didn't think you had it in you when I mentioned it on Monday - you do know it was a joke, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Harry laughed, vaguely relieved, "I just couldn't wait to help you however was possible! You know me, always eager to help others!"

"Of course! I just can't get over how well you chose though," she looked at Malfoy, "I mean, come on! You guys make the ultimate distraction from me and Lav! You did well, Potter."

"Thanks, I'm glad I was able to help," Harry smiled at them both, and then looked at Malfoy, who looked away. Why wasn't he saying anything?

"Anyway, we're on our way to go and grab some drinks - you're welcome to join us if you want? The ultimate double date?" Parvati laughed and winked at them.

"Nah, I think we're pretty good. Thanks though, I'm glad this worked out well for you!"

Parvati's gaze moved to Draco, and she seemed slightly curious.

"Did you lose a bet or something, to agree to come here with Harry?"

"Hey, he's here because I'm a fun person to be around!"

"Sure he is." Parvati laughed some more, "Anyway, it's nice of you to be here, Malfoy, even if it is against your will."

"No problem," Malfoy said stiffly and nodded his head once. Parvati was right, it did seem like he didn't want to be there. Harry decided to add it to the list of the many things that he was currently confused about.

"Okay, well we'll leave you to your standing in silence then! See you later!"

They all said goodbye (Malfoy in a monotone word or two) and then Parvati and Lavender were gone. And with them, it seems, they had taken the warmth from the scene. A moment of silence washed over them, before the storm hit and Malfoy turned on Harry.

"Is that why you brought me then, as a distraction?"

"Well... Yeah, Parvati was worried and I thought it might be a good idea..." Harry wanted to explain the multitude of reasons that he was slowly realising that he had for inviting Malfoy, but it was difficult enough to articulate them into thoughts.

Malfoy seemed thoroughly annoyed, though, and Harry had no real idea why. Of all their encounters tonight, surely this one had been the best?

"How noble that was of you, I should have known. Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"I didn't think it mattered before?"

"Well it does!"

"Why?"

Malfoy faltered for a second, lost the composure that he was always fighting to keep. His face turned a brighter shade of pink, and he seemed to be wrestling with his words; and, next thing, his hands dropped to his sides and his shoulders dropped.

"Don't worry about it, Potter. I just didn't know that I was playing the role of your silly little distraction exercise tonight, that's all."

"You're not-"

"Forget it. It's fine," Malfoy's voice seemed to be drained of all expression, and he started to turn and move away.

"Where are you going? I didn't mean to upset you-"

"You have not upset me, Potter," Malfoy spat out, not even looking at him, "I'm going to go outside to get some fresh air. I trust you can cope without your little game while I'm gone?"

"Game? What are you on-?"

"Good."

And Malfoy was striding away with those long legs of his, cutting through a crowd that looked back at Harry with a billion buzzing questions. And Harry felt like he was drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that the only real cure for writers block is to write? I know because I genuinely did not want to write this chapter as I was so out of practise. But I did it!!
> 
> The next and possibly last chapter should hopefully be up at some point in the near future - we'll see!


	9. What Happened On The Quidditch Pitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How can I thank you enough for reading this?? I don't know! But honestly anyone who leaves kudos or comments is seriously great, they really do make my day!
> 
> Enjoy!

By the time Harry had finally regained use of his legs, Malfoy was long gone in the vague direction of the grounds. Harry hurried through the throng of people who all seemed to be deliberately getting in his way, almost running in an attempt to make up for lost time.

What was up with Malfoy? Harry had thought they were getting on well. Almost too well, well enough by far to make him question things that he had been trying to keep buried. In fact, they were getting on so well that it almost made examining the stuff that Harry was dreading looking seem at worth it.

Then Harry had thrown it all away, by saying... Something.

He spotted Ron and Padma and Hermione and Krum standing in an awkward cluster as he strode past. Ron and Hermione seemed to sense his stress from across the room, and made as if to follow him; but he briefly shook his head. Whatever it was that he was going to do, whatever it was that Malfoy might say or want, Harry needed to face it alone. His friends accepted that, and their faces soon melted into the crowd.

But he wasn't getting off that easily. In the blink of an eye, Harry's path was blocked by a glaring Pansy Parkinson who seemed to be taking back any vague compliments she had paid to him previously.

"Pansy... Er, I'm kind of in a hurry..."

"Chasing after Draco, are we?"

"To be perfectly honest, yes. You haven't seen him, have you?"

"Why should I tell you?"

Harry, who up until that moment had been hoping that the sour look on Pansy's face was a result of an inadequate quality of punch and not because she hated him once more, faltered.

"Because I'm his..." Harry was highly reluctant to call himself Malfoy's boyfriend, but the look on Pansy's face suggested that she wasn't going to drop it, so he settled on "Date."

"Yes, and just a little while ago Draco walked out of here avoiding eye contact with everyone including myself. I'm guessing that this date of his has said something stupid?"

"Maybe. I don't really know. I thought it was going okay," Harry craned his neck, on the look-out for a silvery-blonde head. He could see the door from here, and the rose bushes that were planted specially for the dance.

"Potter, Potter, Potter. You really don't know what's going on, do you?" Pansy somehow managed to sound both patronising and sympathetic.

"No, I don't. But I'm going to go and find him, if you'll excuse me."

Pansy grabbed the sleeve of his robes with an iron grip, and Harry jumped in surprise.

"Before you go, Potter," she said, in a perfectly normal voice, "I don't hate you half as much as the numerous people Draco could have picked to take."

Harry figured that pointing out once again that he had chosen to take Malfoy would be unwise.

"Okay? Thanks?"

"And I know how much Draco wanted this."

"What?"

Pansy finally let go of his sleeve and Harry, momentarily disarmed, took a shocked step back.

"You know... He has told you all about it, right? But I guess you are pretty new, so he probably doesn't want to scare you off with all his... Feelings. Though, Potter, you really don't seem the type to scare easily."

When Harry just looked at her without saying anything, Pansy rolled her eyes and continued, more softly now.

"Look, it's not my business to tell you everything that's going on in Draco's head. But I will say that he's wanted this for so long. Wanted you. He confessed to me... Early last year, I think. But I know he's felt this way for a lot longer. Of course, it was tough; he was a Slytherin, and you were a Gryffindor who seemed to hate him. I'm glad you were able to work past that stuff, but... I mean, I don't want to put words in Draco's mouth, but I think it scares him."

"What scares him?" Harry asked, his voice reduced to a whisper.

"How much he feels. He always tries to act like he doesn't feel stuff too intensely, but he can't seem to help it about you. And it scares him, I think, how much he cares. You guys spent so much time hating each other, I guess he just worries that you're going to go back to that. And he doesn't seem to want that, not any more. But I guess you must feeling the same way, right?"

"... Right," Harry mumbled, not even aware of what he was saying. Slowly, the pieces of a puzzle were starting to snap into place.

Pansy seemed to soften, perhaps at the expression of sheer helplessness that Harry could feel stuck to his face.

"It'll be okay... I saw him disappear into the rose garden. Just go talk to him, or whatever. He can be kind of a drama queen sometimes - you know that."

I know that, Harry thought numbly.

"Thanks Pansy," he gave a weak smile, "You've helped a lot.

"I should hope so, I mean I did just tell you some of Draco's deepest, darkest secrets. Tell him I said 'you're welcome'."

"Will do," Harry said, still unable to quite believe what was going on. He began to walk away, mind still reeling.

"Oh, and Potter?"

Thankfully Pansy didn't feel the urge to hold onto his robes again. Harry stopped and turned once more to look at her. She continued:

"I like to think it goes without saying that if Draco doesn't have a dopey smile plastered to his face at the end of this evening, I will hunt you down."

"Noted," Harry nodded, and Pansy smiled cheerily at him. Then, turning to the task at hand, Harry strode away towards the open doors from which cool air was drifting.

He had to find Malfoy. Malfoy who... Seemed pretty fond of him. Malfoy who had a lot of 'feelings' for him. Malfoy who apparently didn't want to hate him any more. Malfoy who might want peace, not war, for good.

Of course Pansy didn't know the whole story; she still thought they were dating, for Merlin's sake. Maybe that was clouding her judgement? Maybe she was wrong about everything she had said?

No. Apparently Malfoy had 'confessed' to her - about what? Liking Harry? He knew a year ago, probably longer, but he waited until Harry had asked him out to prove some stupid point that neither of them seemed to remember? Why?

Harry was spiralling, and the cold night-time breeze that drifted over his skin when he reached the rose garden felt like an onslaught of his senses. Snow spun gently down onto his face, clinging to his hair and robes. It was tough to go from the warm lighting of the Great Hall to the darkness of the outside, but he forced his eyes to adjust. There was virtually a maze of roses between him and Malfoy, with too many people milling around for Harry to shout and not receive unwanted attention.

So he began to pick his way through the garden, using his wand as a light so he didn't trip. None of the people who suddenly seemed to loom up in front of him on the path were recognisable as the boy he was looking for. He suddenly regretted letting Pansy talk to him for so long; Malfoy had already had a head-start, he could be anywhere by now. 

After weaving through too many plants and dodging too many... busy couples, Harry reached the end of the rose garden with what felt like an entire hat of snow resting atop his head. Still no Malfoy. He was just in the process of heaving a sigh and going back in to enlist Pansy to help him in his search when-

There!

All the way ahead in the darkness, a glint of white that was surely a familiar head of blonde hair. It shone quickly, and then flickered away.

Before Harry had time to fully process anything, he was running. Away from the chatter of the Great Hall, away from the near-useless lanterns placed haphazardly in the rose bushes, away from everyone else. And towards what he desperately hoped was Malfoy.

He was well past Hagrid's hut before he began to slow down. His lungs and muscles seemed to catch up on him and, no longer subdued with adrenaline, they burned. The snow was thicker here, having not been cleared away regularly by magic and people walking. He was essentially wading, and his robes were pretty soaked.

Harry made himself walk more slowly now, wand at the ready casting a thin sheet of light over the ground. He strained his eyes, begging them to catch sight of Malfoy again. The Quidditch pitch was off to the left, maybe Malfoy had gone there? Scanning the pitch, which was still glowing with it's stadium lighting, Harry couldn't see much, but he figured it was worth a shot. Malfoy didn't seem to be directly in front of him, so really any other direction was possible.

Harry looked over his immediate vicinity once more, before veering off to investigate the pitch. The sound of the Ball was carried along on the breeze, and it sounded like some distant echo from the past. He allowed it to wash over him, closed his eyes for the shortest time. The moment seemed to stretch into eternity; his heart beat softly, his walking slowed to a halt, and he nearly smiled to himself. Then he opened his eyes, and knew exactly what he was going to see.

A figure, outlined in the fluorescent light from the changing rooms. Certainty thrummed through Harry's veins, and he set off once more.

As he got closer and closer to Malfoy, he could see more and more detail about him. The boy was leaning against the wall with his forehead resting on the red brick; he was standing completely still, frozen in time almost, facing away from Harry. Those green robes, washed out though they were in the glow of the moon and the lights, and speckled with snow, seemed to shine like a beacon.

Soon, Harry was close enough to make his presence known.

"Malfoy?" He said, a soft voice breaking the silence. Malfoy jumped, his hands moved to wipe his eyes; a short second of weakness, and Harry took a step forward. 

Malfoy turned then, and looked at Harry as coolly as he could with eyes that were a little too red to hide behind.

"What is it?" He said sharply, and it was all Harry could do to stop himself grinning. This was what he was used to.

"I wanted to see you, make sure you were alright," Harry didn't particularly have to fight to make himself sound serious about that.

"Well now you know I'm fine hopefully you can go back up to the hall."

"You're not fine, Malfoy."

"Don't tell me what I am, Potter."

Harry held his hands up in a gesture of peace.

"I'm not going to fight you. If you desperately want me to leave, I'll leave. But the thing is, I don't particularly want to leave."

"You don't?" There was soft skepticism in Malfoy's voice, and a small hint of fear.

"No, I don't. So how about you tell me what's wrong and then I can help you. Or leave, if you still want me to."

"You don't know what's wrong?" Malfoy raised his eyebrows and shook his head slightly to clear it, "I thought I made myself all too obvious back there. I thought I humiliated myself."

"Well, to be fair, you didn't say 'Potter, I am storming out right now for this reason' - so you weren't as obvious as you thought. Plus up until a few sentences ago you were determined that you were fine."

"True," Malfoy seemed to mull things over in his head before coming to a conclusion, "I walked out because it all got a bit much, having to pretend and having to be looked at all the time."

"Why?" Harry asked, trying to have as little accusation in his voice as possible, "You seemed okay up until you left."

The blonde-haired boy closed his eyes for a second, before moving away from the wall a little in one small step that made a surprisingly loud crunch. They still felt miles apart, but it was a symbolic gesture.

"It kind of sucked," Malfoy confessed, in much quieter a voice than usual, "When I found out that you only used me as a distraction for someone else."

"I wasn't just using you. Originally, sure, helping out Parvati was what made me think of asking you. But it was... more than that."

Harry hadn't quite appreciated exactly how admitting the things he had kept buried for so long would be, until he had to claw the words right out of his throat.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... I wouldn't have asked any other guy to come with me tonight."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I might have asked a girl out, because let's be honest it's what people expect. But I don't regret asking you at all, not one bit."

"I don't regret agreeing either," Malfoy looked at Harry, who nearly stopped breathing, "So if part of the reason you asked me was because of what Parvati said, then what else prompted you?"

It was a loaded question, and Harry shuffled his weight from foot to foot trying to come up with an explanation.

"I don't entirely know," he shrugged in the end, "I wasn't planning to ask a guy until I saw you. Then I decided that the only person I could possibly ask was you, but I realised that without really knowing it, if that makes sense."

"It doesn't," but Malfoy was smiling now. A small smile, barely twitching his lips, but a smile nonetheless.

"Thanks. Basically what I mean is that I knew what I wanted you to come with me tonight, but I didn't want to admit that I wanted it. I kept questioning why I asked you; it took a while for me to... come to terms with the fact that there was no one else I wanted to co-ordinate dress robes with."

Telling Draco Malfoy that he liked him. Not something that Harry would have thought possible a few weeks ago. Not something that he would have thought that he wanted to do. But he did want this, Harry reasoned with himself, he did. And the blush that was starting to creep across Malfoy's face and the subsequent feeling blooming in his chest were all the proof he needed.

"I've wanted this for a long time," Harry continued, deciding to use Pansy's words, "I just didn't know that this is what I wanted; my feelings were too hidden under layers of rivalry and hatred, I guess. Funny that."

"Yeah," Malfoy seemed to be avoiding Harry's gaze again, which was never a good sign. The latter decided to wait for a moment, to see if he was going to say anything. To Harry's immense relief, Malfoy eventually continued: "I've wanted it too."

"Thank Merlin. I was really worried you were going to turn me down then. I was so ready to go tell Pansy she was completely wrong!"

Malfoy finally looked up at him and cocked his head to the side.

"What's Pansy been saying to you?" He asked suspiciously, "You know she thrives off of chaos, right?"

"I am well aware of that. And let's just say, I would have been here to have this conversation with you a lot sooner had she not intercepted me. In fact I probably would have been able to catch up with you by Hagrid's hut."

"Everyone knows his house is the best place to have a series of vaguely romantic confessions," Malfoy huffed, and Harry practically felt his heart do a triple somersault at the phrase 'vaguely romantic', "But still, what did Pansy say to you?"

"Oh, only that you're super into me and nearly obsessed with me. No big deal."

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy just shrugged and didn't look too bitter.

"Wow. So she just told you everything then? Did she give you any kind of message to send along to me after she spilled some of my deepest, darkest secrets?"

"Yes, actually, she said 'you're welcome'."

Malfoy smiled and seemed satisfied. Harry made a mental note to do some serious research into how exactly Pansy and Malfoy were able to stay friends without killing each other.

"Classic Pansy," Malfoy mused, "She's way better at dealing with stuff like this than I am."

"I don't know, I think you're pretty good as well."

"You do?"

"Not as good as me, but hey - aim high and all that."

"Excuse me? I'm way better at all of this romantic stuff!"

There it was again - 'romantic'? Harry felt like he was going to pass out. He was getting 'romantic' with Malfoy.

"Prove it!" Harry managed to make himself say, trying to sound daring and exciting but probably just sounding terrified.

Malfoy took a few steps forward, deliberately, achingly slowly. Soon he was standing about a foot away from Harry, then a few inches.

"I bet I'll kiss you before you kiss me." Malfoy was so close now that his breath tickled Harry's face. There was no longer any need for loud voices; they were speaking in soft whispers now, so quiet Harry questioned if he was imagining it.

"The hell you will," Harry murmured, and tried to lean forward and up at the same time. This wasn't how he'd planned to do it (not that he'd ever really let himself think about it properly before), and suddenly Malfoy lurched away from him. The warmth of his body suddenly felt ripped off like a plaster, and the wind buzzed around him. Harry nearly plummeted straight down to the ground into the snow-carpet that was building up, and he took a second to steady himself before he realised Malfoy was running.

Without a second thought, Harry charged after him; they stumbled past the changing room door, through the open entrance to the empty pitch, and still Malfoy was going. 

Harry was running possibly faster than he'd ever run before, and he could hear Malfoy laughing just a bit in front of him. So close. The thickening snow dragged against his feet and left him stumbling more than once, but a bubble of euphoric laughter rose in Harry's chest, and he wasn't even sure if he let it go; the wind carried any sound he made far away behind him. All that existed was the pounding of his feet, the roar of the blood in his body, the beautiful darkness of the sky above, and Malfoy - always Malfoy, one step ahead of him.

Maybe Malfoy tired of the chase, maybe he got bored of playing hard to catch. Either way, he slowed down to a jog then a walk, and an incredibly out of breath Harry was soon able to catch up with him. They walked for a whole extra lap of the pitch, until the quick pitter-patter of Harry's heart against his ribs could no longer be blamed on the exercise.

Malfoy nodded at him, all messed-up blonde hair and warm pink cheeks, a silent question. Harry nodded back.

Then, fast as he had fallen away from Harry, he collided with him once more at full force. Harry staggered, nearly collapsing to the floor under the weight of Malfoy's body; but somehow they stayed upright, swaying wildly in circles to absorb the force. Without pausing, without hesitating, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, Malfoy's lips met Harry's. It wasn't forceful, it wasn't harsh. It was soft and sweet and over far too quickly as Malfoy pulled away to look at him. Harry opened his eyes, which he hadn't realised were closed, and his gaze was drawn to Malfoy's grey one, as it always was.

"I don't mean to brag," Malfoy breathed (or was he suddenly able to communicate telepathically? Both were plausible from the new understanding that seemed to have sprung up between them), "But I said I was going to kiss you first, and I did."

"That's ridiculous! You always mean to brag."

Before Malfoy could come up with a witty retort, Harry firmly pushed their lips together. When they came apart again, Malfoy kissed him before he even had a chance to gain his breath back.

It went on like that for some time.

"Isn't this more fun than being at some stupid ball?" Malfoy muttered, when they finally started to take notice of the world around them once more. They were lying on the grass of the Quidditch pitch, right in the centre; Malfoy had waved his wand with a sigh and evaporated off the snow so they weren't too inconvenienced. Snowflakes still spiralled down on them, dusting Harry's eyelashes like a coating of sugar. Their shoulders and legs were planted next to each other for warmth, and their hands were touching though not quite holding each other.

"I don't know, the ball had it's perks."

"Like me, in these amazing dress robes?"

"Maybe. And this whole... thing. That wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for the Yule Ball!"

"You think, Potter?"

"Uh, yeah? I easily could have lived in denial for another few years."

"I couldn't have. I was starting to crack. Which was why I told Pansy all about it last year, which I'm guessing in turn she told you all about."

"A bit." Harry tried to wriggle closer to Malfoy, but they were already shoulder to shoulder.

"Well it was after that Hippogriff attacked me-"

"After you provoked the Hippogriff."

"Alright, yes, after I was showing off to some scar-head git. Anyway, I was in the hospital wing for a bit, and my friends all came to visit me which was nice. But there was only one person that I really wanted to see. And that one person was the last person who would ever choose to see me."

"The famous old me, I'm guessing?"

"Sssh. Yeah. You. And it hit me, at that moment, that I'd really messed things up. Really truly, royally messed it up. You hated me. And I hated you, only I didn't; I don't think I ever truly did. I had acted like a spoilt child, and it had cost me your friendship. Anyway, once I'd come to that conclusion, I felt as though if I kept it in for any longer I might burst."

"So that's when you knew you liked me? You had a head start, I didn't properly start to process it until the last couple of days."

"I think I even knew before that, on some level. If a little boy pulls a girl's hair, people say it's because he likes her; just because we were both boys, why should it be any different?"

"That's true, I guess," Harry nodded. In the process of nodding, his head brushed Malfoy's shoulder and, before he really knew what was happening, their bodies moved together so that now his head was resting against Malfoy's shoulder. It was nice, though be managed to disrupt a clump of snow that had formed on said shoulder, which then sprayed into his face.

"Yeah," Malfoy seemed a million miles away.

"Malfoy?"

"Mm?"

"What do you want to do?"

"What do you mean?" Malfoy's voice insinuated something completely different than what Harry had meant, and even though it was dark and they were looking at the sky not each other he tried his hardest to push the blush off his face.

"Not like that! I mean... Do you want to date? As in, not fake-dating for the Yule Ball. As in proper boyfriend dating? ... Ugh, why is this so impossible to talk about without sounding stupid?"

"I think the whole sounding stupid thing might just be your speciality."

"Gee, thanks. Didn't answer my question though - was that deliberate?"

"No, I was just stalling to give myself some time."

"Oh. Take all the time you need. No pressure."

They lay there for a while longer. Harry looked up at the stars that were shining and the snowflakes that were spinning down like miniature meteors, and he felt a quick rush of gratitude just to have Malfoy by his side. He was warm, and despite his edges and knots and fraying ends he was soft still.

"Ok," Malfoy said into the silence, shattering it into gentle shards, "I've thought it over and I think that, if you want to, not-fake dating sounds like a good idea."

"So, to be clear you want to date?"

"Yep."

"So I can call you my boyfriend?"

"Yep."

"And we can maybe go to Hogsmeade together?"

"Yep."

"Wow. This is... Weird."

Harry felt Malfoy shift and roll so that he was looking at him, and Harry did the same. They were facing each other then, hands clasped as one, legs tangled in a mess, lips dangerously close together.

"Scared, Potter?"

"You wish."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh
> 
> It's over now! Done!
> 
> It's been fun, I liked writing this and reading all the wonderful feedback I've gotten. This was my first Drarry fic, and maybe not my last - we'll see, I make no promises.
> 
> Looking back I can see all of the things I should have done differently, but I hope that this worked for you! See you on my other fics (feel free to check them out)


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